


Baby Blue Eyes

by ArtemisRayne



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Family Bonding, Father-Daughter Relationship, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Past Child Abuse, Rebuilding, Reunion Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-14
Updated: 2010-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 105,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisRayne/pseuds/ArtemisRayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after Tina vanished without a trace, Artie is still looking for a way to move on. When they are reunited by fate, Artie finally learns just what took her away from him that night, and that truth has very familiar blue eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Gone

_** March 2012 ** _

"Artie, get up!"

I groan at the light pounding on my door and my little sister shouting at me. Tugging the pillow over my head, I bury my face in the mattress and close my eyes. Normally, getting up in the morning is no big deal for me, but I was having a really good dream before my sister interrupted and I would very much like to return to it. And much to my dismay, the images of my girlfriend and black lace are already fading away.

"Are you awake?"

I groan louder, but it's muffled in the mattress. Turning my head to the side so I can answer, I shout back an unenthusiastic, "Yes, Lizzie."

"Good because you take forever in the shower and if you don't hurry we'll be late," she says, and then I hear her footsteps retreat down the hallway. I heave a sigh and admit defeat in my attempts to go back to my dream. Hating myself for forgetting to close the curtains all the way last night, I pry my eyes open in the blaring sunlight.

The first thing I see is my cell phone, clutched in my hand and resting on the mattress inches from my head. I smile at the dark screen. That's another reason I'm so against it being morning already; I was up half of the night texting with Tina. She's been stuck home with the stomach flu for the last week, and since her parents are happiness-Nazis, I haven't been able to go over and see her.

The missed alert light is blinking, and I curiously open my phone to see I have one text, dated '3/11, 1:27 am.' I must have fallen asleep in the middle of our conversation. I smile and open the message, bringing the phone close to my face to read it because I haven't put my glasses on yet.

_can u come over 2morow? i need 2 talk 2 u about something_

I raise an eyebrow at this since her parents have been pretty firmly against my visiting. They literally shooed me away when I tried last Friday. Maybe they'll both be at work so I can get in without being cursed at in Korean. Either way, I can tell it must be something important if she's willing to risk it, so I click 'reply' and key in with one thumb, since I'm too lazy to bother dragging my other arm out from under my body.

_ok T, b over after school. get feelin better. love u_

After I've sent the text, I snap my phone shut and nestle my head down in my pillow again. Just as that pleasant lightness of drifting off sinks in, there's a loud thump against my door and then it opens.

"Arthur Benjamin Abrams!" Lizzie shrieks, coming around to stand at the edge of my bed and glaring at me. I don't open my eyes, but I can tell she's glaring. She has one of those stares that burns holes in people. When I don't react except to make a noise of annoyance, she slaps my shoulder sharply. "Get your stupid, lazy ass out of bed!"

"Elizabeth June Abrams,  _language_ ," I reply, just to annoy her, and she slaps me again, this time on the back of the head. I groan again. She heaves an overly-dramatic sigh, and I feel the pressure of her climbing onto the bed. Despite myself, I open my eyes curiously. Her face is blurry, but I can tell she's smirking at me, standing up with one leg on either side of my hips. And then she starts jumping. I yelp as my body bounces against the mattress and I instinctively reach for the bedposts to steady myself a little as my body continues to jump along with her.

"Alright, alright!" I shout because she's giggling like a crazy person. "I'm up!"

"And you're going to stay up?" she questions, still jumping.

"Yes, now get down before you land on me with those monster feet," I say, and she makes an indignant noise but stops jumping. She kicks me in the side before stepping off the bed and grabbing her shoes from where she left them. With one last noise of protest, I push myself onto my back and then up into a sitting position, shivering as the warm blanket slips off my bare chest and pools in my lap. Lizzie is standing at the foot of the bed and staring at me expectantly, and I can hear her tapping her toe impatiently. "Liz, I may or may not be wearing boxers under this blanket, and unless you want to find out, I advise you leave."

"Ew gross!" Lizzie instantly bolts out of the room, practically slamming the door behind her. I laugh to myself and reach down to toss the blankets off my pyjama-clad legs. Fishing on my bedside table for my glasses, I set about my typical morning routine. Once I've shifted myself from my bed to the waiting wheelchair, I fetch some clothes from the dresser and head into my adjoined bathroom. I shower and dress, and then roll myself out into the kitchen, where Lizzie is sitting on the counter with her foot twitching in a staccato rhythm.

"About time," she says in exasperation. She tosses something silvery at me and I catch it on instinct, glancing down to see it's a package of Pop-Tarts. "That's all you get since you're such a lazy butthead this morning."

"Oh c'mon, at least let me have a cup of coffee first," I plead. Lizzie just smiles and reaches down the counter to grab a thermos, sliding down off the counter and pressing it into my chest. "Fine, this'll work." I twist around, and Lizzie helps me put the Pop-Tarts into my backpack. I wedge the thermos snugly between my legs, and then I grab my keys off the hook by the door. Five minutes later, I've got my chair locked into place in my specialised manual van and Lizzie is already comfortably buckled into the passenger seat, trying to change my radio station. I bat her hand away before putting the van into gear.

I stop the van against the kerb at Lima Junior High and Lizzie immediately waves at one of her friends. "Is Emily giving you a ride to ballet?" I ask as she undoes her seatbelt.

"Same as she does  _every_  Tuesday, yeah," Lizzie says. I just smile and nod. "See you later, dork."

"Later, monster," I reply. Lizzie giggles and jumps out of the van, waving to me before running off to join her friend. I shake my head and ease my van out into the road again, this time heading for William McKinley High. A Cheerio in a shiny compact nearly hits me going into the parking lot, but I manage to get my van into one of the handicapped spots without getting murdered and run the lift to get out.

School today sucks as much as the last four Tina-free school days have. With only two and a half months left until graduation, we are all feeling a serious case of senior-itis creeping over us, and I am not exactly paying attention in most of my classes. Most of the time this isn't a problem, since Tina is in half of my classes and I can pass notes with her to keep myself entertained. Without her there I spend most of my time doodling idly in a notebook and waiting expectantly for the free period when we have extra Glee rehearsal.

"Still no Tina?" Mr Schue asks me when I roll into the choir room alone. I frown and shake my head, and Mr Schue nods to me sympathetically. "Alright, well we'll leave off practising your duet another day then, but I hope she's back soon or we're not going to have time to set and polish the choreography for it. Nationals are only four weeks away." I just nod and smile grimly before joining the rest of the team. Even though having something to do makes this hour more bearable than the last four, singing without Tina doesn't feel right.

I have lunch period after Glee, and once I'm settled at a table with Mercedes, Rachel, and a couple of the newer Glee members, I slip my phone out of my pocket and send a text.

_glee still feels weird w/o u. hope ur feeling better. love u._

The next three classes go by without incident, although they also go by without much concentration either. In my last period History class, my least favourite class and Tina's favourite, I check my phone to see if she's answered. Nothing. Frowning a little, I send another.

_bored in hist, cant wait to finally see u again. B there in 1 hour. Love u._

I spend the rest of the class hour glancing down at my phone in my lap, waiting for a reply. The bell rings, and I still haven't gotten one. Starting to get nervous, I hurry to my locker and find Mercedes standing there. "Hey, have you texted Tina yet today?" I ask curiously. "I've texted her four times now, and she hasn't answered me. I was wondering if maybe she's mad at me for falling asleep while we were texting last night."

Mercedes scoffs at my reasoning but shakes her head. "I texted her before Glee, but she ain't answered me neither," she says. "Maybe Lucy Lui's sleeping. She  _has_  been chunking her guts out for the last week."

"Good point," I say although I wrinkle my nose at the description. "Now I'll feel bad going over. She said she wanted me to come over, but I don't want to wake her up."

"Oh please, Wheels, she ain't seen yo skinny white ass in a week, just go over," Mercedes says, rolling her eyes and laughing. "Maybe she'll let you join her lil' cat nap."

She winks suggestively, and I blush at the implication. "I don't think any of that will be happening if she's been puking," I say. "It's damaging to a guy's self-esteem if his girl vomits on him." Still, I have to admit I really do want to see Tina. I haven't seen her since last Tuesday, and even though we've talked every day she's been gone, it's not the same.

"Tell her I say to get that Chinese ass better and get back to school 'fore I come drag her back," Mercedes says like she already knows what I've decided. "Even if I gotta take her 'rents to the carpet to do it."

"She's Korean," I point out, but Mercedes just shrugs. Laughing, I close my locker and head out to the parking lot. Sending one more text,  _hey t, on my way over, u awake?_ I get into my van and drive the familiar route to her house. She still hasn't answered by the time I get there, get out of my van, and up to her door. I knock but don't hear anyone coming for the door. After two minutes of waiting, I knock again. Still nothing.

Really concerned now, I pull my phone out and dial her number. It goes straight to her voicemail. Maybe her phone is dead, and that's why she hasn't been answering. I knock again, but nothing happens. Thinking maybe she's slept through the sound, I struggle to reach up and finally manage to hit the doorbell. It chimes out loudly inside the house. I wait expectantly but still don't hear anything. By this point, my heart is hammering out in my chest, and I think I'm forgetting how to breathe. I hit the doorbell again, and when another minute passes without anything, I hit it again. Finally, after the fourth time I've punched the little button, I hear footsteps inside the house, heading rapidly toward the door.

I grin, expecting Tina to answer the door, apologising for having slept through the noise because she's so sick or maybe because she had headphones on. Instead, when the door opens, I flinch back, because it's her mother and she's glaring heatedly at me. "What's your problem, young man?" she asks sharply.

"Sorry, I was coming to see Tina," I say. "Is she asleep?"

"I have no idea," Mrs Cohen-Chang replies and her gaze is cold and bitter. I roll back another inch because I think this woman looks capable of murder. Not the first time I'd thought that, and it turns out it wouldn't be the last either. She has never liked me much for some reason, but her animosity today has doubled, and I can't help but wonder what I've done. Well, apart from annoying the hell out of her with a doorbell. "She's not here."

"Not here?" I ask in surprise. "I thought she was home sick."

"She's gone, I don't know where," Mrs Cohen-Chang says. "I haven't seen her since last night."

My heart shudders to a stop in my chest as what she's saying finally processes. "Wait, you mean she's  _gone_?" I clarify breathlessly. "What are you talking about?"

"Gone, as in gone," Mrs Cohen-Chang rambles off angrily, and I'm surprised when what looks like a tear sparks in the corner of her eye. All the air rushes out of me. "I would appreciate it if you'd leave now," Mrs Cohen-Chang says coldly and then before I can say anymore, she's slammed the door in my face.

I stare at the dark wood for several long minutes, trying to wrap my brain around what's going on. I was just talking to her last night. She was here then. And now she's gone. How is that possible? Did she leave the house? Get kidnapped? Picked up on the side of the road and taken away? Abducted by aliens? I had been talking to her, but now she's just – _vanished_?

No. This can't be happening. Not to Tina, not to me. I hammer angrily on the door, mad at Mrs Cohen-Chang because I'm sure she must be lying to me. Or at least she's not telling me everything. There's got to be more to this, and I need to know what's happened. She must be hiding things from me. Maybe she's even trying to hide Tina from me. Either way, I need to know.

"What happened to Tina?" I shout at the door, still pounding it with my fist. "Tina, are you in there? Someone answer me." I keep hitting the door, long after my hand has started to ache and my arm gets tired. I switch to using my left hand and yell for Tina again, but I still get no response.

This isn't real. It can't be real. Tina can't be gone. Where can she be? Maybe she's gone to the doctor's, and her phone is turned off. That would explain it. What if she's in the hospital? Anything but what Mrs Cohen-Chang said. Tina can't be gone. It can't be real. This isn't real.

Twenty minutes later, both of my hands are bruised and my voice is starting to fail me. My arms are getting sore, and I barely have the strength to lift them away from the door to let them drop again. I am vaguely aware of the fact that I can't see very well and my cheeks are cold and wet, but my brain is so disjointed I don't care why that is. My heart is pounding in my ears, but over it, I can still hear the rush of the pouring spring rain. I'm shaking with more than just cold. I feel sick.

I don't even turn away from the door when I can sense someone standing behind me. A hand reaches around me and grabs my arm to stop me from knocking again. I indifferently lift the other one, but a second hand comes out and grabs that too. "Let me go!" I cry out in frustration, trying to tug my arms free from the person hovering behind me. "Let me go. She's in there. She's lying to me. I need to know the truth. She can't be gone."

The person behind me is talking, but I don't really understand the words through the throbbing in my head. The voice sounds familiar, but I don't want to waste the brain power to figure out who it is. I don't really care. There's only one person's voice I care about right now. "Please, just let me go!" I shriek and my voice cracks.

The voice is soft and soothing and sympathetic. I don't want sympathetic. Sympathetic means there's something to feel sympathy  _for_. Sympathetic means that Mrs Cohen-Chang is right. Sympathetic means Tina is gone.

I make a noise of frustration, and I don't even care that it sounds vaguely like a scream. The person behind me manages to fight against my strength and folds my arms in against my body, their arms wrapping around me and keeping me still. I struggle, but whoever the person is, they're a lot bigger than me, and I can't get free.

"She's not gone, she can't be," I say desperately but my voice has become a pathetic squeak. "I talked to her last night. She was here. She  _is_  here. She's not gone."

The person shushes me, holding me a little tighter. "It's gonna be okay, Sport, just calm down." Only one person calls me that.

"Dad, she's not gone," I plead. He has to listen to me. Dad always listens to me; he knows Tina can't just be gone. Not my Tina. "Please, you know it's true. She's not gone."

Dad just shushes me again. When he releases me, he comes around to kneel in front of me. My heart drops because his face is wet and his eyes are red. He's crying. Why is he crying? There's nothing to cry about. She's not gone. "You've got to listen to me, Artie, you're gonna be okay. Okay?"

"Dad, please?" I'm begging now, and I know it. His face isn't relenting anything. There's no hope or belief or light in his face at all. He's shaking, and he just bites his lip and shakes his head. I crumble because Dad would never lie to me, not about something like this. My whole world falls in, and I bend over, wrapping my arms around my head and tucking myself against my legs.

I don't care that I'm curled up in my chair on my girlfriends' parents' front porch, that the mist of the rain is freezing me or that I'm crying harder than I've cried in my life, because strength and vanity and pride and decency don't matter anymore. I fell asleep last night without telling her I love her. I have no idea where she is or if she's safe or injured or dead. I don't know if I'll ever see her again.

Tina is  _gone_.


	2. Five Years Later

_** June 2017 ** _

My whole world begins rocking jerkily, and I grip the armrest tighter, my other hand closing over the pendant around my neck through my shirt. My eyes are squeezed shut, and I think I've forgotten that I'm supposed to be breathing.

"Hey, are you okay?"

I don't even open my eyes to see who is speaking to me, although I can tell whoever it is is female and somewhere to my left side. "I will be once this plane stops moving," I mutter tensely.

There's a bright laugh. "So you mean once we land in Seattle, then?" she asks in amusement.

It takes me a full minute to realise my mistake, but when I do, I manage to laugh. "Well, actually I was talking about the turbulence, but landing would be nice, too," I agree. When I go to open my eyes to see who I'm talking to, the plane shudders ominously, and I just squeeze my eyes shut tighter, a breathy curse leaving me.

"Not fond of flying, I take it?" she asks.

"No, I'm pretty used to being low to the ground, and I prefer to keep it that way," I answer. The plane evens out for a moment, and I turn to see the woman.

She looks to be pretty close to my age, maybe twenty-five at the oldest. She has a soft, smiling face, with wide, dark eyes and a long blonde braid draped over her shoulder. When she sees me looking, she twists in her seat and offers her hand across the aisle to me. "Grace Michaels," she introduces cheerfully.

I release the armrest to take her hand but the plane pitches wildly and I almost literally yelp as I latch onto my seat again. I can hear her trying to muffle her laughter as I hiss out a prayer and several colourful swear words under my breath. After a minute the world stops shaking, and the pilot comes over the intercom to announce that we're finally high enough to be out of the turbulence. I can't fight back the weary, "Thank God," that escapes me.

Finally relaxing in my seat, I look over and see that the woman, Grace, is still holding her hand out in the aisle. She's watching me with a smile, and although something is teasing in her gaze, I don't feel offended by it. I smile back as I reach over and put my hand in hers. "Artie Abrams," I say.

"Cute name," Grace says, eyeing me interestedly. I smirk shyly, hoping that my cheeks aren't red. It's an unfortunate habit I haven't quite grown out of. I've been told it makes me look 'endearing' (Kurt's words, not mine) but mostly I just think it's embarrassing. "So, family or work?"

I wrinkle my forehead in confusion. "Is this like that truth or dare game?"

Grace laughs, and it's high and sort of chirpy, like a bird or maybe a chipmunk. I smile at the thought. "There's usually only two reasons that people who hate flying will brave planes," she explains. "Family emergencies or work."

"Oh, work," I answer quickly. "I have some business meetings that need attending. What about you? You seem very at ease. Just along for the thrill of the ride?"

"Family," she says, and her smile flickers just slightly. "My mom was sick, so I came to visit her. Now that she's better, I'm headed home."

"You're from Seattle?" I ask curiously, trying to keep myself distracted. Talking keeps me from thinking about the fact that I'm hovering in a giant metal contraption thousands of feet in the air. That and I'm actually enjoying talking to Grace, because she's charming and witty and, as of yet, she doesn't know I'm paralysed. As soon as people find that out, the conversation tends to get uneasy no matter how hard I try to keep it normal.

"For nearly six years now," she says with another smile. I've noticed she smiles a lot. "I'm from Illinois originally, then spent a year in San Fran before moving to Washington. What about you?"

"Ohio, originally," I say, and she smirks a little at this, "but I've been living here in Chicago for just over four years now."

"Not to be a stickler for details, but I don't think we're actually above Chicago anymore," Grace says.

I involuntarily gulp. "Could you not say 'above?' It's really not helping," I say with a nervous laugh. "I'm trying very hard not to think about that."

Grace doesn't even try to hide her laugh. "They do sell alcohol on these planes, you know."

I chuckle appreciatively. "Thanks, but I try not to drink much."

"Okay," Grace says, leaning sideways into her seat with a casual shrug. "But just so you know, the weather in Seattle means the turbulence will be about twice as bad."

It takes my brain a second to digest that before I manage, "On second thought…" Grace laughs, and I smile, feeling myself relaxing just a little.

"You're allowed to take the seat belt off now," she points out.

"Yeah but it looks so nice with my sweater," I say, keeping the banter light.

Grace is staring at me with interest again, and I squirm a little, feeling kind of uncomfortable with her regarding me so intently. "You're the guy in the wheelchair, right?"

"What?" Her abruptness catches me so off guard the question leaves my lips before it's even processed in my brain. I scramble to recover. "Do you commonly go around asking people if they're disabled?"

She just smiles. "I saw you getting on the plane," she confesses calmly, not at all bothered by my reaction.

My snappy comeback is, "Oh." I push myself up in the chair a little with my elbows, feeling awkward, and then nod, even though she apparently already knows the answer.

"How long are you going to be in Seattle?" she asks, without batting an eye at my admission. I'm a little surprised because generally people get turned off when they find out about the chair, but I won't deny that I'm pleased and relieved that she just keeps chatting away like it's nothing.

She does a good job of keeping up the conversation for almost the entire five-hour flight. She asks me about my job, and I tell her all about the music technology company I work for. When she asks about my family, I tell her about my pro baseball star older brother and my ballerina of a little sister. She asks me which hotel I'm staying at, and when I tell her, she warns me to be leery of a certain doorman and recommends the nightly lounge show. As we're talking, she tends to deviate onto strange tangents, most of them oddball philosophical questions that don't actually make a whole lot of sense to me but are fun to think about anyway. It sort of reminds me of talking to my friend Brittany, except Grace has a much bigger vocabulary and less of a fascination with birds.

Before I know it, we're shuddering down through the turbulent air towards the Sea-Tac Airport. When Grace asks, with an ill-repressed laugh, how I'm holding up, my response is, "I really wish I'd taken that drink now." She's right, the turbulence above Seattle is much, much worse than Chicago. I make a mental note of telling my boss that if he ever needs me to come to Seattle again, I'll be willing to pay for the gas out of my paycheque so I can drive instead.

I'm left to mutter swear words to myself under my breath, which is nice because I'm pretty sure I can't carry on a conversation while the plane is vibrating like this. Grace doesn't speak up again until the plane has landed and everyone is getting ready to disembark. "Do you have a cell number?" she asks curiously while the others stand up and start streaming past us.

"Yeah, why?" I ask, my brow furrowing in surprise.

"Every man deserves to have a lady give him a tour around her town when he's visiting," Grace says with a laugh. "That's what always happens in the movies, isn't it?"

"Well this might be just a little bit unorthodox, but I can go along with it," I answer, and I'm smiling as I pull a card out of my wallet, handing it across to her when there's a break in the flood of people. She might be a little bizarre, but it's not every day that a pretty girl offers something like this to me. Especially not a pretty girl who isn't bothered by my wheelchair. "My cell is the number on the bottom."

"Arthur?" she asks, eyeing the card and smirking. "You didn't mention that Artie is short for  _Arthur_."

I shrug self-consciously. "I didn't name myself, blame my parents," I say.

"I suppose it's not much better than a klutz named Grace," she says off-handedly and then smiles again. She tucks the card into the pocket of her carry-on bag and stands up. "I'll give you a call later, see if you're up for a little sight-seeing," she says. "Provided I can catch you before you have to go to all those fancy business luncheons, of course."

I can't help but grin at that. She slips out after the last person to walk by and reaches down to squeeze my hand. "Enjoy Seattle, Artie. You never know what'll happen; this is a place of miracles."

I watch her go in surprise, thinking that maybe this place does have something to do with miracles. As strange as she is, I kind of like Grace. The only problem is every time I meet a girl, I start comparing her to another one, and that never gets me anywhere. Partly because I really don't want to think about that girl anymore, and partly because no matter how much I don't want to think about her, no one else can quite add up.

* * *

Just over two long hours later, I'm making myself comfortable on the bed in my hotel room. Getting out of the airport was a nightmare. Airports are even worse than high school hallways for the potential of getting hit in the face with bags. I got up close and personal with two duffel bags, a backpack, and very nearly with a cat carrier, of all things. It has me thinking that maybe the miracle of this city that Grace was talking about is when I actually survive getting my bags and getting to a cab without dying or being severely injured.

The staff at the hotel I'm staying in is just a little too accommodating, which gets annoying fast. Or maybe that's just from the stress of a five-hour flight. I never am very pleasant to be around after flying. The receptionist who searches up my reservation shoots me a familiar look of pity as I accept my room key and turn away from her. It's a look I see on at least three other people hovering in the lobby, and I can feel about a dozen more sets of eyes on me. Another Seattle miracle: I don't spontaneously combust.

Now, after a calming shower in the quasi-handicap-accessible hotel room, I'm sprawled out on my stomach on the bed in my undershirt and a pair of pyjama pants, and I feel like I can finally relax. Well, except for the fact that I have a conference presentation to give the day after tomorrow that still needs to be fine-tuned.

Sighing, since I'm feeling a bit of jet-lag from currently being in my third time-zone of the day and want nothing more than to just sleep it off, I reach over the edge of the bed and grab my laptop case. I free the computer from the straps and drag it up in front of me, and while it's turning on, I dig out the stack of papers I'll need. When the screen winks into life, I look up at the widescreen collage I created and smile.

There are all kinds of pictures overlapping each other on the black backdrop. The cover art for a few of my favourite albums are interspersed with shots of my friends and family, a blend of several years that make the passage of time pretty obvious.

And in pride of place, dead centre, is the photograph of Glee club, my sophomore year, surrounding our second place trophy from Regionals. It wasn't our best win - we made it to Nationals the next two years - but it was my favourite because it was  _the_  team. The twelve of us, the closest band of ragtag misfits in high school history. Like always, I find myself studying the familiar faces.

There's Mr Schue, tears still in his eyes. He married the guidance counsellor, Miss Pillsbury, early my senior year. The Glee Club performed at the wedding. She's expecting their first baby. Considering that she hasn't completely beaten her mysophobic tendencies, I'm wondering how that's going over.

Then there's Santana, I haven't heard from her in almost two years. Last time we talked, she was modelling in California. Oh, that's right, I'm supposed to look her up when I go to that conference in Los Angeles in August.

There's Matt; he went pro football, just traded to Minnesota last year. We've all been giving him hell about that.

There's Brittany, who moved to Chicago like me to attend the School of Dance at Columbia College. She's working for a dance studio now, teaching children and people with disabilities. For being so air-brained, she always has been good with people, and she's really great at her job.

With an arm around her shoulders, there's Mike Chang. We all sort of expected the pair of them to get married, but they've somehow maintained a just-friends status for years now. He's an accountant by day (we ridicule him on the stereotypical Asian job) and a hip-hop dance teacher by night.

Next to them is Kurt and Mercedes, arm in arm as always. They work together at a fashion consulting business in New York, although Mercedes has been working on plans for a début album. She's asked me if I would perform a duet with her on one of the ballads, and even though I have no ambition towards musical stardom anymore, I've been considering it.

Beside them is Quinn, still round with her baby bump in the picture. She is still living in Lima, working as a nurse at Lima General. Puck is there too, working at a general contracting business. Although they have decided that they will likely never be in love the way they thought they were, they maintain a good friendship and are co-raising their little girl together. Holly Fabray-Puckerman just turned seven.

And there's Rachel, beaming that crazy wide Rachel Berry grin. She went to New York, which surprised no one, and is still blazing a trail for herself on Broadway. I went to her play when I was in town last month, another revival of  _Les Miserables_ , and it was good. I might have cried a bit.

There, towering over everyone else, is Finn. He followed Rachel to New York, again surprising nobody, and they got married not long after. He's counselling underprivileged children and coaching kids' sports teams. When I talked to him last month, he was still trying to convince Rachel they should have a baby, but she's still insisting she's too focused on her career. Mercedes, Puck, and I have a running bet on how long she'll hold out. Rachel never has been much good at resisting Finn Hudson.

And then there, right behind me as always - her arms draped down over my shoulders, our hands not-so-subtly linked in front of my chest, her face pressed against the side of mine as she beams – is  _her_. In all her blue-haired-and-nailed, neon eyeshadow, fishnet-gloved glory. I haven't heard from her in five years since she vanished without a trace.

I quickly open a program on the screen, covering the pictures so I won't have to look at it any longer. I don't want to think about  _her_  right now. I do it enough already. Besides, brooding about it isn't going to make anything different. I know that well enough. It hasn't worked for the last five years, and odds are it's not about to start working now.

Finding the file I need, I throw myself relentlessly into my work. I really do need to get this presentation finished before the meeting, and I welcome the necessary distraction.


	3. Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

I feel her nuzzling her head against my chest and I smile, letting my fingers trace designs over the heated skin of her back. I honestly didn't intend for us to end up here, it just sort of happened. Not that I'm complaining, of course.

It started with a phone call. She asked if I was bored and wanted company. Minutes after I'd said yes, she showed up and we passed the time just talking. We bickered playfully about music and movies and which is the best flavour of jellybean. She said something clever, and I laughed, and suddenly her face was very close to mine. She hesitated, and for a minute we both just stared at each other. I'm still not sure which of us made the first move after that, or maybe we both did at the same time, but then we were kissing.

Things spiralled quickly out of control from there. Her hands moved into my hair, and she deepened the kiss. I don't recall her moving, but somehow she was in my lap, one of my hands on her back and pressing her closer to me. My other hand found her thigh and was lingering at the hem of her skirt. She kissed along my neck until I couldn't breathe in a normal rhythm. While I let my lips work along her collarbone, her hands slipped beneath my shirt. Her palms were hot against my stomach, and my breath hitched even more as they travelled, her fingertips outlining my muscles and her nails grazing over my ribs.

Not long after she tugged my shirt off, hers followed. She didn't make any motion to stop me when my hand drifted further up her leg beneath the skirt, and then she moaned, arching her back. This meant the last of her clothes disappeared pretty quickly, and she rid me of mine too. I thought briefly that this really wasn't what I'd planned on us doing this evening.

Then she lowered her hips against mine, and I stopped thinking entirely.

All conscious thought went out the window and our actions settled into an instinctual rhythm. I couldn't focus on individual motions because everything became a blur of sensations. Really,  _really_  good sensations.

When she reached her limit, she gasped my name in a low, breathy voice. Just the sound of that alone would have been enough to do me in, but the sight of her body tensing - back arching and head rolling back and hands clenching against my hips so tightly I could see the nails biting into my skin - definitely helped too. Gradually both of our bodies relaxed and we only half-untangled ourselves as she laid down and curled herself into my side.

Now as she makes herself more comfortable in the circle of my arms, I hear her give a soft sigh. I shrug my shoulder to get her attention, wordlessly inquiring. I can feel her smile against my chest, and she says, "That felt good." I have to laugh a little at that, and I hum in agreement since I'm still not sure my brain is to the point of being able to form words in a human language. Besides, she gets the point just as well, so it's not really worth the effort to try.

The hand she's resting on my stomach lifts slightly so her fingers can draw patterns on my skin. It sort of tickles and I shudder a little. She just giggles. When she doesn't say anything, I can tell she's letting me get my higher brain function back before starting up a conversation.

"I think you marked me," I say idly, glancing down at my hip even though I can't actually see it without my glasses on. She lifts her head to look up at me in surprise. "One of your fingernails was far enough up that I could feel it," I explain. "And it definitely felt mark-worthy."

She pulls back a little to see, and I watch her lower a hand. I can't feel it, but I can tell she's tracing her fingers over what will undoubtedly be four red crescent-shaped marks on my hip. "Sorry," she says, wincing a little. "I didn't notice, why didn't you say something?"

I snort. "I kind of had other things on my mind," I point out. "And at that point in time, so did you apparently." She blushes and lays her head back down. As she does her hair falls off her shoulder, and I smirk. When I touch my finger to a patch of darkening skin on her collarbone, she seems to immediately know what I'm trying not to laugh about.

"You didn't!" she gasps and puts her hand on the spot. When I let a laugh escape, she thumps me in the chest. "You said you wouldn't."

I smile wryly. "And you said  _you_  wouldn't."

She rolls her eyes and huffs. "Okay, fine, that's a good point." She attempts to hide her smile and then pushes herself closer to my side. We lay together quietly for a while, and I just listen to the sound of her breathing peacefully. She goes back to doodling patterns on my stomach with the nail of one finger.

My eyes are starting to drift shut when I notice that her hand has stilled. "Tee?"

"Artie, you love me, right?" she asks suddenly.

I open my eyes to glance sideways at her, raising an eyebrow. "No, Tina, I most definitely do not," I say sarcastically. She grins and rolls her eyes again, but underneath I can see that there's something more serious. I prop myself up on my elbow so I can look into her face better and she lays on her back to stare back up at me. There's something deeper in her gaze, something that seems pretty intense for the casualness of her question.

Smiling, I push a strand of hair off her forehead. "Of course I love you, Tee," I say, leaning down to punctuate my sentence with a light kiss. "You still love me, right?" She genuinely smiles this time and nods. "What is this about? Or are you just having one of those crazy, whimsical girl moods again like that time with the cookies?"

She breaks out in giggles, and they make her nose and eyes wrinkle up in a way that's so familiar it makes my heart feel really strange. "I just like to hear it," she says. "I know it's true, but the way you say it makes it sound more real somehow."

I regard her for a second, trying to decide between being amused or touched. "You're really weird," I tell her but I say it gently, and she just beams like it's a compliment. I meant it as one anyway.

"I like that it's really real," she elaborates. "It means this isn't just some high school thing. We've got something real, right? One of those things that doesn't just fizzle out after a while. That lasts?"

As I let my eyes pan over every single millimetre of her face, taking in the details that I know by heart, I feel a different kind of warmth in me that has nothing to do with what we were just doing fifteen minutes ago. It's something I feel a lot with her, and it makes me feel relaxed and contented and  _whole_. "Tee, I'm gonna feel this way about you for the rest of my life," I admit. As her face lights up and she throws her arms around me, pulling me down into a hug, I know for sure that this is where I want to be forever.

…And then I wake up.

I groan as I push myself up, wincing and flexing the muscles of my face since I fell asleep on the keyboard of my laptop and I can feel the pressure dent the space bar left above my right eye. Thankfully the screen is dark, meaning the computer powered off and I didn't screw up any programs. I close the lid before pushing myself over onto my back.

Focusing on the blank ceiling, I take steadying breaths and try to push the images away. This is, unfortunately, a practised manoeuvre. Every time I make progress towards something new, these old memories invade my dreams and knock me down a notch. Quinn says it's like "two steps forward, one step back." Honestly, it feels more like one step in either direction. For the last five years, I've just been basically rocking in place.

I grunt in annoyance and grab my cell phone off the bedside table to check the time. Four in the morning. Tossing the offending timepiece back onto the table, I move my body around until I can get myself underneath the covers, dragging them up over me. Once I'm settled down inside the heap of blankets, I bury my face in the pillow and try to get back to sleep.

The bedding smells really strongly of fabric softener and Febreeze, which is not exactly the most soothing of aromas, at least at such close proximity. Neither is the gentle tapping noise coming from the other side of the room. I scowl into the fabric. It's raining. I hate the rain. It was raining  _that_  day.

So much for the city of miracles.

I throw a punch against the mattress, feeling the old springs vibrate beneath my body at the impact. I hate nights like tonight. I'm sick of this feeling, of waking up in the middle of the night crying over what I lost. I really do wish at this point that I can just get over this and move on because it's not worth brooding over anymore. Not after five solid years of nothing. I love her, but this is just too hard.

There's too much I've lost out on in the last few years for me to keep this up any longer. I have gotten most of my life back under control again since that day. I finished school, got out of Lima and went to college, found a great job. I've made new friends and stayed strong with the old ones. But there's always that one part of me that holds back, the part that relates to my heart. I haven't made it past a first date since high school.

My thoughts drift to Grace Michaels, and I feel my scowl relax a little. She's quirky and bizarre and forward, and I have to admit that I like it. She doesn't hesitate in saying what she thinks. She treats me like she treats everyone else. She's definitely attractive. And I'm pretty sure she might have been flirting with me on the plane. Even if it doesn't end up working out between us, it's a starting point, isn't it?

I resolve that if Grace calls to ask me out, I will say yes. It's about time I try.

With this new firm decision sitting in my chest, I finally push away the last of my dream and fall back asleep.

* * *

"Housekeeping?"

I jerk awake, blinking bemusedly when all I can see is white. Then I lift my head and realise it's because I had my face almost completely pressed into the pillow. It takes a second longer before I remember where I am in the hazy light creeping through the crack in the curtains. Right: Seattle, hotel room. I shake my head to clear it and grope blindly for my glasses on the bedside table.

Once they're on, I push myself over onto my back and sit up, groaning as the blankets slip off my upper half. My laptop is sitting, closed, on the corner of the bed and there's a scattered mess of papers around it. I forgot to put them away before going back to sleep. I anxiously check the time again. It's nearly eleven o'clock in the morning.

There's another tentative knock at the door, and I finally remember what woke me up in the first place. "Oh, come in," I say, dragging a hand through my dishevelled hair and then setting in on gathering up the loose paperwork on the mattress. I hear the door open, and someone comes in, although I don't look up more than the fraction of a second it takes me to register that it's someone in grey employee clothes before turning my focus back to my work.

The housekeeper goes about whatever they're doing without a word while I finish putting away my work. My growling stomach reminds me that I haven't eaten since the miserable excuse for a dinner I had at the airport before boarding my plane yesterday, and I'm determined that it's about time for some real food.

I move slightly so I can lean over the edge of the mattress and dig a fresh change of clothes out of my bag. With my new clothes heaped on the mattress where I'll still be able to reach them when I'm down in my chair, I turn and shift my legs over to the other side of the bed where my chair is waiting. I can hear the cleaner getting ready to leave the room, and I glance up to thank them before they do, but my words freeze in my throat. There's something…

She turns so I catch sight of her profile and I can't stop my jaw from hitting the floor. Because I know that face, better than any other face I've seen in my life.

"Tina?"


	4. Paranoia and Jedi Mind Powers

The woman doesn't even pause on her way out of the door like she hadn't heard me. I haven't seen her face straight on, but there's something hauntingly familiar in that profile. There are no coloured streaks in her hair, no florescent eye makeup, and not a safety pin or chain or fishnet in sight, but I feel something in my chest leap anyway. She just keeps walking.

"No, Tina, wait!" As she vanishes beyond the doorframe, my eagerness and panic momentarily make me forget that the limbs below my waist haven't worked in fifteen years. I remember this abruptly when my body crashes to the floor, landing hard on my side and knocking the air out of me.

It takes a minute for my reeling and now oxygen-deprived brain to catch back up with me. The moment it does, I'm untangling my body and pulling myself up into my chair. Disregarding the fact that I'm only wearing a rumpled white tee-shirt and pyjama pants, I roll out into the hall. "Tina?" I try to shout it, but it comes out as more of a breathless question because one quick look tells me there's no one in the hallway. Feeling frantic, I roll all the way to the end of the hall, checking down every side hall and in every open doorway I pass for some sign of her. Nothing.

Breathing heavily, I push myself back towards my room. I check again on my way back, but by now the spark of hope that had flared in my chest is dimmed. I had been so sure that was her. Why would she run away from me? It doesn't make sense. My Tina had never run from me before. She had always run  _to_  me.

Of course, the honest truth is hovering in my mind, no matter how much I want to ignore it. That woman wasn't Tina. It wouldn't be the first time I'd excitedly mistaken another Asian woman for my missing best friend. Those had been embarrassing; seizing the arm of a random woman, shouting, "Tina!" only to realise it wasn't her. Maybe it was a good thing I hadn't caught up to that maid. I'd have only embarrassed myself again.

Shaking my head, I grab the change of clothes off my bed and steer myself into the bathroom. It's barely large enough for me to manoeuvre my chair in, and the only real handicap adjustment is a removable bench in the shower that feels slightly off balance, but I manage to make it work. Even though I took a shower last night, the warm water helps me clear my head.

Sitting in the shower, I think about these last twenty-four hours. Last night, after meeting Grace and her offer of something new to help me start over, Tina just had to work her way into my head again. Not that she ever really leaves it, but I normally do a better job of keeping my thoughts of her pressed into the back. With one dream, I'm suddenly the twitchy, paranoid mess that I was five years ago after she'd first disappeared. Every time I let my hopes get up like this, it's like losing her all over again. I can't keep doing this to myself.

I shut off the water and dry myself. By the time I'm dressed and out of the bathroom, it feels like the shock has worn off and I'm closer to normal. Determined that food will help, partially because I've heard somewhere that being hungry makes you delusional and mostly just because I'm starving, I start gathering my things to leave. I'm in the middle of tying my shoes when my phone rings. I answer it without checking the caller ID, expecting it to be my boss. "Arthur Abrams."

"Hey there, Fly Boy."

I nearly drop the phone in surprise at the woman's voice coming through my phone. Definitely not my boss. "Hello?" I reply uncertainly.

There's a laugh, and I recognise her in the same instant she says, "You don't remember? Grace Michaels, from the plane."

"Oh, right, Grace, hi," I stammer out, laughing. "Sorry, it's been a weird morning."

"I was just calling to see if you were over the jet lag enough to cruise the town," Grace says. "Or are you going to be stuck in your fancy-pants meetings all day?"

I smirk at that. "No, those don't start until five," I assure her. "I was actually just on my way to grab something to eat."

"Excellent, I'll pick you up in fifteen," Grace says decidedly. I'm smiling as I agree and then she hangs up. I finish with my shoes, pull on a jumper, and with one final check that I have my wallet and keys, I leave my room.

I'm doing fine until I pass the first maid. Almost instinctively I glance up at her, but she's an older woman with dark grey hair. I shake my head, reminding myself that I'm being ridiculous. From that point on, I keep my gaze firmly forward, resisting all temptation to look up every time I'm passing a grey uniform.

When I get out of the hotel and onto the pavement to wait, the cool air gets me a little more focused. It's still raining, but I try not to think about that. I'm only waiting under the awning for about two minutes when a blue car pulls up to the kerb and Grace gets out of the driver's seat.

"Feeling better now that you're on the ground again?" she asks by way of greeting, grinning.

I laugh as I roll up to the car. "Much, thanks for asking." I open the passenger door and heave myself into the car. Before I can even turn my focus to what to do with my chair, Grace has already folded it and is stowing it in her trunk. She slips into the driver's seat, flashes me a smile, and then we're on the road.

"Wow, you're efficient," I note in surprise. She just smiles again. I glance out the windscreen. "So, where exactly are we going?"

"Well, since you're completely at my mercy, I was thinking about dragging you to the ballet and the newest chick flick and other equally sappy things," Grace says, but she has a hard time keeping her face straight. She takes one look at my mock terrified expression and laughs. "For starters, there's a really nice café a few blocks down. You can't come to Seattle without visiting a good coffee shop, and they also happen to make some of the greatest lunches this side of the ever-elusive fifth star."

"That's an interesting way to put it," I muse and then settle back into the seat for the drive. Grace chatters happily about different lunches they offer and then about attractions I need to visit before leaving. She talks about the Space Needle a lot, and I try not to look too mortified by just how tall that thing is. Did she not figure out yesterday that I don't get on well with heights?

The café we stop at really is a nice little place. Really laid back, with wrought metal tables, painted white, that look like they belong in the conservatory room from the Clue board game. Grace drags one of the chairs away from the table so I can manoeuvre myself in, and we both order our drinks while we peruse the menu.

"So you're a musician, right?" Grace asks a minute after our coffees arrive and I look up from the list of sandwich styles curiously. "You have some highly developed guitar calluses on your fingers, and you've been tapping your fingers to the tempo of the ambient music since the moment we got in here."

"Wow, Sherlock, you are almost freakishly perceptive," I inform her, embarrassedly forcing my hand to still on the tabletop. Grace just smirks and takes a sip of her soy latte. "Yeah, I am. Not quite as much as in high school, but because of work I still play guitar a lot."

"So what do you do again? Because you told me yesterday, but I think the altitude was getting to you because you weren't speaking fluent English and I didn't really understand it," she says, and I laugh.

"I work for a music technology company in Chicago. They create programs that make it easier to work music through computers," I explain. "You know, plug the instrument into the computer, and it writes up the sheet music for what you're playing. That sort of thing. Lately, we've been working on a lot of programs to help teach music to kids, make it more exciting and easier for them to learn."

"So you're a computer geek?" she asks with an arched eyebrow, smiling.

"No. Well yes, but that's not my job," I answer. "I'm in the public relations half. I go around to market the programs to other music companies. Recording studios, music schools, places like that. And visit grade schools to try and get kids interested in music. That's where most of my music playing comes in now, playing for kids."

Grace is smiling really softly now, not like the teasing smirk earlier, and she nods. "How sweet," she says, and I busy myself with my coffee when I feel my cheeks heating up. "You really like your job, don't you? This helping kids discover music thing."

"It's a godsend," I agree. "I can't imagine anything else I'd really rather do. Well, except maybe Hugh Hefner's job."

"Hm, that's charming," she comments, laughing. We're distracted from the conversation for a moment when the waiter comes by to take our orders, but the moment he's gone, Grace is picking up the thread again. I'm getting the impression this woman is one of those people who's afraid of the quiet.

"So lemme guess, you were a superstar rock musician in high school, right?" she asks and raises her eyebrow again, grinning almost cheekily. "Total stud, garage band, playboy, compulsive partier, ridiculous piercings, the whole she-bang."

I snort into my coffee. Wiping away the hot droplets that ricocheted up onto my lips, I glance over at her sceptically. "Yeah, and then I traded it in for this look," I say sarcastically, adjusting my glasses on my nose to emphasise the point. "It's very geek chic."

Grace laughs. "Just checking," she says innocently. "So then you've always been a nerd?"

"Until I was eight, I was determined I was going to be a Power Ranger when I grew up," I say by way of answer. Grace just nods, biting her bottom lip to stop from laughing. "What about you, have you always been a crazy people profiler?"

"I'm offended by the use of the word crazy," she says with feigned hurt. " _Eccentric_   is the socially accepted term." I smile and nod, humouring her, so she continues. "I've always been a people watcher, ever since I was a kid. People don't appreciate how much you can learn about a person just by watching them for a few minutes. Now I'm a social worker, so it helps to be able to understand and relate to people. And yes, I've always been eccentric too."

"So that's how you can guess all these things about me before I say anything," I say, and I'm admittedly impressed. Grace smirks at me around her drink. We're interrupted again as our lunches show up, and for a moment my attention is too focused on the beautiful smell coming from my sandwich. You know you're starving when suddenly a simple club sandwich smells like heaven. Grace must be using her Sherlock Holmes mind powers to tell that I'm solely intent on my meal because she lets me devour a full third of my sandwich in complete silence.

"Do they not have food where you're from or something?" she asks jokingly when the consumed third starts heading towards being half.

I swallow and blush. "I haven't eaten since lunch yesterday, except an extremely wilted salad at the airport," I explain sheepishly.

Grace wrinkles her nose. "You actually dared to eat airport food?" she asks, and I can't tell if she's awed or disgusted. Probably the second.

"I was hungry," I shrug. I abandon my sandwich for a minute and go back to my coffee. "So those people watching powers, what else do you already know about me?"

"If I took a guess, I'd say you're about twenty-three, twenty-four," she says and then raises a questioning eyebrow, so I nod. "Catholic, although judging by your foul mouth on the plane, not exactly the most God-fearing of followers. Total nerd, you probably have Star Wars memorised word-for-word. The good ones, not the new ones. You're a musician but not one of those hyper-confident-bordering-on-arrogance ones, so I'd guess you were more into ensemble groups. Band or choir, maybe. If you'll excuse my frankness, you've been in the chair since you were young. While you're self-conscious about your condition sometimes, you are overall well-adjusted and comfortable with who you are."

By this point I'm basically gaping open-mouthed at her, my lunch forgotten. This woman isn't Sherlock Holmes, she's a freakin' mind reader!

Grace smirks like she knows she's won, which my expression is probably a pretty good indicator of, and then she leans forward placing her elbows on the table and giving me a more serious look. "And there's also a look in your eyes that makes it seem like you've seen a ghost," she says pointedly. I close my mouth very quickly, the irony in that statement hitting me pretty hard. "How did I do?"

"Creepy good," I answer after a steadying breath. "Emphasis on the creepy."

"Thank you," Grace says and smiles. "So, you want to talk about it?"

"About how creepy your Jedi mind powers are?" I ask in confusion.

"I knew you were a Star Wars nerd," she says triumphantly. "But no, I was talking more about this mysterious ghost that's got you all jumpy."

"I'm not jumpy," I say defensively.

"Every time the shop door opens you glance over at it, and the look on your face is like you're half-expecting someone to show up, even though I know you don't actually know anyone who lives in this city because you told me so yesterday," Grace says and I flush, looking down at my food but not feeling much up to eating at the moment. She's got me thinking of  _her_  again, and that has a tendency to kill my appetite. "You may as well get it over with because as I'm sure you've noticed, I am insanely annoying and persistent."

"Yes, I'd deduced as much," I reply with a smile. "It's nothing, just thought I saw someone this morning I haven't seen in a while and never expected to see again. Weirded me out." Grace arches an eyebrow. "I think there's some unwritten rule where you're not supposed to talk about your exes while out on a date."

Grace pouts thoughtfully for a second and then says, "Well then this isn't a date." I look up at her curiously. "This is just a friendly lunch and a generous soul helping an outsider to get acquainted with the town." She smiles playfully and says, "Care to talk now?"

"City of miracles, my ass," I mutter with a laugh. Strangely enough, this whole change doesn't really bother me. Sure, it's a little weird to be told  _on_  your date that you're not actually on a date, but I've admittedly had stranger things happen. And while I'm still not fond of telling anyone about this, let alone Grace, it's also pretty tempting. She's easy to talk to, and I'm not really afraid of her judging me by it either.

"Don't give up on those miracles yet," she says and reaches across the table to squeeze my arm. I don't fail to notice that there's no sparks or flurries in my stomach at the contact. Unfortunately. "So, who's the mystery girl? It is a girl, right? I'm not discriminating if it isn't."

"I shouldn't be laughing about the fact that you're questioning my sexuality," I say, not able to hold back the laughter anyway. "Yes, it's a girl." Thinking about  _her_  sobers me up a bit, and I twist the little red stirring stick around in my coffee thoughtfully. My dream last night and the delusional breakdown this morning are both filling my head and making it hard to focus. Grace is giving me a sort of reassuring look, and I take a deep breath. "She was my best friend and my high school girlfriend."

"It ended badly?" she asks curiously.

I grimace. "We'd been dating for a little over two years, and then one day she just vanished. No runaway notes, no ransom calls, no signs of what might have happened. It was like she disappeared into thin air. Her parents skipped town a week or so after, and my hopes of her coming back went with them. I haven't heard from her in five years." I pause, clearing my throat and glaring more intently at my coffee cup. "I thought I saw her this morning at the hotel, and it freaked me out. It's happened before, though. You'd think I'd be used to it. I've accepted that she's dead, honestly. I think I just want to know for sure so I can get over it and move on."

"Wow," Grace whispers, her voice awed. "You've got a life right out of a Nicholas Sparks."

For some inexplicable reason, I laugh. "Yeah, something like that," I concede. "Unless you suddenly whip out a knife and then it'll be a Stephen King." I haven't talked to someone about  _her_  in years, and weirdly enough it actually sort of helps. Or at least my appetite comes back enough for me to continue enjoying my sandwich.

"I'm sorry, about your girl," she says sincerely, and I look up. There's a bit of a sad smile on her face, but for once the pity doesn't make me feel bad. Pity for my condition drives me insane, but this doesn't. "You really loved her, didn't you?"

"Yeah," I agree blankly, looking down at my plate and nodding. "Like I didn't think it was possible to feel." I blink a couple times quickly because my eyes are itching, and then look up at Grace again. "So, I still have two hours before I need to get back and get ready for work. What else is on your devious agenda?"

Grace smirks playfully and refuses to give me any more than a, "You'll see."


	5. Always a Second Chance

We wind up at the Seattle Art Museum, where Grace shares what seems to be a never-ending knowledge and trivia bank on art. She can tell which time period every painting in the building came from, and even the exact artist most of the time, without ever looking at the description plaques. I jokingly ask her if her psychic abilities at reading people extend to people on canvas as well. It turns out she was an art student before she became a sociologist.

The museum actually ends up being pretty fascinating, though, I have to admit. Art was never really a topic of interest for me, (I can't even draw a decent stick figure), but the way Grace tells the twisted life stories of the artists' and the different tragedies and successes behind the individual paintings and sculptures makes them actually sound cool. Depressing most of the time, but still cool.

Two hours of impressionism and friendly banter later, we're heading back to my hotel, and I feel more contented than I have in months. Grace is still talking casually about other pieces of art that she likes, referring me to a few at the art museum in Chicago that I need to visit when I get home. It's only as she's rambling on about the last painting we had stopped at before we left, one called  _Saint Sebastian tended by Saint Irene_ , that something occurs to me.

"How'd you know I was Catholic?" I interject into the break between her sentences.

She doesn't seem all that bothered by my interruption and doesn't show any real reaction except to glance sideways at me. "On the plane, whenever it started shaking you grabbed at something under your shirt," she explains. "Generally, that's either a favoured necklace or a patron saint medal. Judging by the fact that you were praying when doing it, I figured the second was more likely."

I self-consciously lift a hand and touch the silver circle through my sweater before realising what I'm doing and putting my hand back in my lap. "Nice guess."

"Who is it?" she asks curiously. "The patron saint of flying, that's Saint Joseph of Something-Tino, right?"

I laugh, shaking my head. "Correct, but not mine," I say. "Saint Jude."

"The patron of children?" she asks in surprise, tearing her eyes off the road to look over at me, and I can tell by the way her brow pulls down that the news concerns her.

"And of lost causes. I appreciate irony," is my answer as I turn away to look out the window. Grace is quiet, but I can feel her eyes still flitting to me every few seconds. When three solid minutes of this go by, I finally sigh and say, "I've had a lot of times in my life when things get really rough, and I'm feeling pretty hopeless. In times like that, it's encouraging to know that there is always someone at my back."

"Okay now  _that_  I believe," she says, and I can hear her smile has come back. I relax now that I know she's done pursuing the subject and turn back to her.

"Are you Catholic?" I ask. "I don't know many people who aren't that actually know the saints, especially more obscure ones like Joseph of Cupertino."

"My mom is," she answers. "She never really attended Mass or anything, but every day she said a prayer to Saint Jerome Emiliani and encouraged my siblings and me to join her."

"The patron saint of orphans?" I ask in surprise.

"Foster mom," Grace says, and I nod in understanding. "I thought the prayers sounded pretty, so she taught me all about the saints and the rosaries. I can't remember all of the ones she taught me, but I still know most of them."

"That's impressive," I admit. "I was born and raised Catholic and can hardly remember any of that."

"Yes, well, I'm talented that way," she says, looking sideways to grin at me before looking at the road again. "Any more questions about my deductive reasoning powers?"

I'm smiling as I pause thoughtfully. "Not really, I'm afraid you'll analyse my words and manage to read my entire life story through a few sentences," I joke. She laughs, tells me that I'm over-estimating her skills just a little bit, and then settles back into casual ramblings about the different ways she can read people by pointing out things she can see in the people on the pavement as we pass or in the cars around us. I have to agree that, while it's highly unlikely that she's always right, all of her logic and reasoning do come across pretty convincingly.

"Okay, I do have another question," I say after a few minutes. Grace nods for me to continue. "Not that I'm not grateful, because I am, but how do you know how to handle being around me so well?" She raises an eyebrow curiously, so I elaborate. "Most people don't know how to act around people like me. They get really weird and treat me differently, and they are always so cautious about the chair. You aren't like that. You treat me normally, and you take the chair like it's a normal thing too. How come?"

"Well it is a normal thing for you, isn't it?" she asks in return. "Just like being eccentric is for me and being tall is for other people. No reason to make a fuss about it." I'm staring at her in awe, and she smiles and adds, "I'm a social psychologist, Artie. How to behave around different types of people is sort of my thing." She shrugs. "And I have experience. One of my brothers had polio."

I mutter a nearly silent "oh" in reply, taking that in. There are times I forget that I'm not the only person like me, that there are hundreds of people in wheelchairs for all kinds of reasons. I feel like I should say something to her, but I can't think of what to say, so I change the subject instead. "I don't know how you can handle living in this city."

"What do you mean?" Grace asks.

"All of this rain," I say, only a tinge bitterly, as I gesture out the windscreen to the persisting downpour. "It's been nothing but storm clouds and dark skies and rain since the moment I got here. I haven't seen the sun once yet. This weather is so miserable."

"Rain isn't about misery," Grace says matter-of-factly, enough so that I look over at her in surprise. "It wipes away all the bad things and leaves the world clean and fresh." She stops for a second, looking deep in thought, and then says, "Rain is all about second chances. That's why I love this city. Here, there's always an opportunity to start over new."

I regard her quietly, trying to make sense of what she's said. Honestly, she makes a decent point. I just can't erase my initial prejudice. If rain is about second chances, then what was the sign in the fact that it was raining  _that_  day? That after my girlfriend and best friend just up and disappeared, I should just clean the slate and start all over again? I don't like that idea, even though there's a dark voice in the back of my mind reminding me that's exactly what I'm trying to do now.

Brushing away all of that, I meet Grace's interested gaze and smile. "You are one of the most bizarre people I've ever met."

"You flatter me," she says playfully, laughing. I notice the car has stopped and when I look outside I see we are back at my hotel. She shifts into park and goes to get my chair out of the trunk, unfolding it and setting it down once I've opened the passenger door. After I've hauled myself in, I turn to grin up at her.

"Thanks, Grace, I had a good time," I say sincerely.

"You know, so did I," she says like it's some great surprise and then smirks at me. "I'll see if I can catch you with some free time again later."

"I'd like that," I admit. Even if nothing romantic comes out of this, spending time with Grace is fun, and she helps me keep my head on straight. It's kind of nice to be in a new city and not feel completely alone like I normally do.

"Don't have too much fun in your big fancy meeting," she teases, and I laugh, promising her I won't. She bends over to give me a hug before walking around to get back into her car. I wave at her one last time before turning and going back into the hotel, needing to get ready before my business dinner.

* * *

Late that night, I sit up in the hotel bed, grinning as I work on my laptop. The meeting went great, and while it was only an informal introduction meeting without any serious partnership talk, I'm feeling good about things. They were very clearly impressed with what I told them about our newest line of programs. After my presentation tomorrow, I'm fairly certain we will be signing business contracts. It feels good to know I'm so good at my job.

I lean back against the headboard, putting a last minute fix into my presentation, when I see a blinking icon pop up in the corner of the screen.  _Video chat invitation: Monster._

Laughing, I click on the link. A moment later, a window opens on the screen, displaying a slightly pixilated video stream. "Hey, Lizzie."

"Hi, Artie," Lizzie replies, smiling and waving at me. Her hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail, and the fact that she's wearing her glasses instead of her contact lens tells me that she's supposed to be asleep. "How's Seattle?"

"Wet," I answer with a laugh. "Isn't it your bedtime? It's almost one in the morning there."

"Artie, it's summer. And I'm seventeen," Lizzie points out. "I don't  _have_  a bedtime." She glances at something past the camera and then back at me. "Oh, and by the way, Mom is on the fritz. You didn't call when your plane landed, so she's been sitting around the house all panicky but not wanting to call you in case you think she's being too intrusive in your life or something."

"Oops," I say, grimacing. I'd made a point of calling home every time I landed in a new city, just to pacify my slightly neurotic mother, but between Grace and my exhaustion and the whole thing with the not-Tina, I had forgotten.

"I tried to explain to her that if the plane had blown up, we'd have heard on the news," Lizzie says. "And that if you'd died, she would know since the way she was acting meant that your death would  _clearly_   be the end of the world." I laugh, and she smirks playfully. "She didn't like that. I'm grounded from the computer for a week for making levity of your death."

"Grounded from the computer you're currently on?"

Lizzie shrugs. "What Mom and Dad don't know won't hurt them."

"Oh, you are such a rebel," I comment dryly, and she smiles. "So, how are things at home?"

"Same old boring," Lizzie says, shaking her head. "But at least school is over, so I don't have to worry about homework anymore. I got into that dance camp in August, so I have that to look forward too. Although I've had to take up a summer babysitting job to pay for it. Are you going to come home for my birthday? Mom wants to have a big family dinner but she doesn't want to do it unless you can come."

"I should be," I agree. "I told Paul I need that week off, so as long as no emergencies come up, I'll be there."

Lizzie beams and I can't help but feel good about it. I can't deny the fact that I've always been hopelessly wrapped around my baby sister's little finger, and even though she's grown up now, that hasn't changed. She lets out a little squeal of excitement and claps her hands, like a four-year-old that's just been told they can have an ice cream. "Great, you can meet Drake!"

"Drake?" I ask suspiciously. "Oh please, tell me you don't have a boyfriend."

"I'm  _seventeen_ ," she reminds me. As if I need a reminder of that; I'm very aware that she's not the little kid who used to make me play tea-party with her or read her bedtime stories. Sadly. "I'm allowed to be dating now."

"But he's named after a _duck_ ," I say and Lizzie giggles. "This Duck, is he a good guy? I mean, he's not like Noah, is he? Duck and Puck rhyme, after all."

Lizzie rolls her eyes. "No, he's nothing like that," she assures me. "He's on the swim team, gets good grades, brings me home on time after dates. Would you like me to give you his social security number so you can run a full background check on him?" She's teasing so I play along and nod, pretending to search for a pen and paper. "Don't worry, he's already been warned that if his hands wander anywhere they shouldn't, my big scary older brothers will make him disappear."

"That's good," I say, but that doesn't quell the nervousness in my stomach. I know she's not a baby anymore, but I can't help but feel anxious about her and  _boys_. I know what teenage boys are like; I was one just a few years ago. And she's my baby sister. I've always been a little over-protective of her, and we have always been close. She was only two when I was in the accident, so she doesn't remember me before the chair. It makes it easier for me because when I look at her I can tell she doesn't constantly remember what I was like before. She accepts what happened to me and who I am now better than anyone else in the family.

"So, visit any cool places yet?" Lizzie asks eagerly. "I want to ask about the Space Needle but I know you are too chicken to go there."

"Hey!" I say indignantly, even if she's right. Lizzie just smiles unashamedly. "Just for that I'm going there before I leave." She looks sceptical but I let it drop. Instead, I tell her about the art museum. She's only slightly more artistically inclined than I am, and while I'm telling her about things I can see she's Googling them in another window. 

After a while, we settle into idle chatter, the sort of easy sibling banter we mastered a really long time ago. I tease her about how the glasses finally make it obvious we're related. She still denies we come from the same gene pool since I'm too much of a nerd to be related to her. It's all fun and comfortable and exactly the sort of normalcy that I really need right now.

Out of the blue, I notice that Lizzie is giving me an intent look and when I ask her what she's staring at, she says, "She's in your head again, isn't she?"

I don't have to ask who she means or how she can tell. Lizzie is the only person in the world I ever felt comfortable talking to about Tina because Lizzie was almost as badly affected by it as I was. She was really attached to Tina, looking up to her as the big sister she'd never had; whenever Lizzie needed girl advice, she would call up Tina, even if Tina wasn't exactly the best person for girly-girl advice. For weeks after it happened, Lizzie was the only person who could get me to talk at all.

Knowing there's no point in arguing, I nod. Lizzie's smile is sad. "Dreams or seeing her?"

"Both," I answer do not promise. She looks surprised and then shakes her head. "Dream last night, and this morning I thought I saw her again."

"I saw a girl at the mall last week with coloured streaks in her hair, and if she hadn't turned around so I saw she was white, I might have tackled her," Lizzie admits and I laugh a little. "I miss her too, Artie."

"I know," I say and meet her eyes through the internet connection. "Thanks for sticking with me, Monster."

"No problem, Dork," she answers with a sly grin. 

The mood lightens again and we go back to talking about new movies coming out this month and which ones look worth watching, which involves a rather heated debate about the latest horror movie remake. She think it looks cool and I don't understand why they can't just leave that poor storyline alone, stop messing with a classic, and come up with something original. 

After about an hour, there's a light tapping noise from the other side of the connection, and Lizzie jumps, looking over her shoulder. The door behind her opens and Dad pokes his head into the room, looking half-asleep.

"Liz, you might want to go to bed before your mother catches you," he warns with a grin and then glances past her to the screen. "Hey, Sport."

"Hi, Dad," I say, waving at him. "Tell Mom sorry, I've been busy, but I'll call in the morning before she goes to work."

"Okay," Dad agrees and then yawns. "Love you."

"Love you too."

Dad glances at Lizzie and says, "Five minutes or I'm waking your mom."

"Okay Dad, thanks," Lizzie says and he leaves. She turns back to the screen and sighs dramatically. "Guess I better go."

"Stay out of trouble. And tell that Duck kid he better not cause any trouble either."

"Yes, sir," she smirks, and mock salutes me. "But could you please not call him Duck to his face when you meet him?"

"I'll try, but I'm not promising anything," I say.

"Can't expect much better than that from you," she says. "Alright, night Artie."

"Night, Lizzie." She grins and blows me a kiss before reaching up over the screen, and suddenly the video box goes black. I close it down, shutting off the webcam built into my laptop, and go back to my presentation with a smile.


	6. History Always Repeats Itself

The next morning I'm getting ready to leave for my meeting when the light knock at the door comes. I sit bolt upright, my heart suddenly pounding in my chest. Clearing my throat, I manage to say, "Come in." There's a beep as the door lock registers the key, and then it opens. My heart falls.

The woman standing in the door has tan skin, and black hair swept back into a braid. She looks like she could probably be the woman I saw yesterday morning, and she's definitely not Tina. Her features are more Hispanic than Asian. When she sees me staring at her, she gives a hesitant smile. "I can come back another time," she says, and I realise my intense scrutiny is probably scaring her.

"Oh, no, sorry," I say quickly. "I'm actually just leaving." I grab my bag and settle it in my lap before moving past her and out of the room. I try not to feel too disappointed. Deep down, I knew it wouldn't be  _her_. And deeper down, I hadn't been able to stop myself from hoping it somehow was.

The concierge calls a handi-capable transport car for me while I muse about how I hate that title. It makes it sound like some massive, military carrier vehicle. Can't they just call it a wheelchair taxi? I'm still debating about this with myself when it shows up. On the drive over, I go over all of my notes in my head to double check that I'm fully prepared.

It turns out that I don't need to worry much about it. Only a few minutes into the meeting they've basically decided, and although they let me run through the rest of my presentation, I can already tell I've got them. We sign papers when my spiel is over, and I spend another hour having a guitar riff duel with one of the businessmen who had heard from my boss I was a player. He's really good, but even though I'm playing on a borrowed Gibson, since my guitar is in my hotel room, I still win.

We all go out to another dinner as a bit of a celebration, even more relaxed and casual than the one yesterday. After it's finally over, I call my boss to tell him how things went, and I can tell he's impressed. My good mood keeps skyrocketing. If my meetings with the music academy, our other potential client, work half as well as this, I am definitely looking at a raise.

It's nearly eight by the time I get back to the hotel, still smiling to myself. I'm crossing the lobby when I hear music, coming from a hallway with a golden arrow pointing down it and marked "ballroom." I remember the lounge show Grace keeps recommending, and I wonder if that's what it is. It only takes a second of deliberation before my curiosity gets the better of me, and I roll down and into the darkened ballroom.

The room is dotted with small, circular tables, each set with a little burning candle that, judging by the lack of aromas, is probably battery-operated. There are pairs and small groups at the tables, with the occasional solo person, all watching the singer interestedly. There isn't much of an audience, maybe twenty people at the most, but then again I figure it's a Thursday night and not near any holidays, so the hotel doesn't likely have a lot of guests to venture in here.

I stop at an empty table in the back and look up at the stage along the far wall, backed with maroon curtains and well lit. The singer is a short man in a tux with a deceptively large voice. Sort of like Rachel, I suppose; small but powerful. I've got to give the guy credit, he is  _good_. I listen in interest as he croons through a couple jazz lounge type songs, - Frank Sinatra and Nat King Cole - as well as a humorous Broadway standard from a play I don't recognise.

Midway through his next song, a female voice suddenly joins his. If the guy is good, she's  _amazing_. The guy smiles and steps aside, gesturing back to the curtain as a woman in a black dress steps through it. My eyes land on her face and my entire world grinds into slow-motion. This is either my most elaborate hallucination yet or…  _her_.

She looks so similar and yet so different from how I remember her. Her hair is solidly black now, twisted back into a complicated, diamond-studded knot on the back of her head. Her make-up is simple, and her dress is clean-cut and almost elegant in its simplicity. The one thing that's really the same though is her face, and the way it lights up when she's performing. If I focus on just her face, I can see the girl I fell in love with what feels like a lifetime ago.

My brain is feeling too light to think much as I just listen to her singing. How many times have I wished I could hear this sound again? The pure, straightforward soul of her tone, as she pours her every emotion into the songs. I never thought I would hear this again, or see this again. And yet here she is. I don't understand it, but I can't help it when my eyes start to water. If this is another delusion, I don't want this one to end.

I don't even realise that it's several songs later until I hear the people around me clapping. Up on the stage, Tina and the man are bowing, and she's beaming in that exhilarated way she always had after performing. They disappear back behind the curtains, and the people at the other tables get up and filter out of the room. I linger, waiting until they've all gone because I have to see her again. I can't let her just disappear again.

After a few minutes, a door beside the stage opens, and the man walks out of it, dressed in jeans and carrying a garment bag over his shoulder. He shoots me a curious look, but smiles and keeps walking until he's out of the room. I ignore him entirely, my eyes now trained on that side door. She has to come out of there, she just has to.

The door opens, and there she is, still wearing her dress but with her hair set free from its twist. It's a little shorter than it used to be and it's laying in soft curls around her shoulders. She turns her back on me to close the door behind her, and the spell is broken.

"Tina?" My voice comes out as a croak and so quiet that for a minute I'm afraid she won't hear me. I wait for the illusion to shatter because this is always how it happens. I see her and am sure it's her, but when I try to call to her, she vanishes or is someone else.

Only this time, she doesn't fade away. She stiffens and then turns to face me, so slowly she seems to be hardly moving, and then her eyes widen and her lips part in surprise. "Artie," she gasps, and something catches in my chest again. The way she says my name, I know this is real. Even my dreams can't recreate that sound.

"It's really you," I breathe in awe. I roll forward a few inches, still half-expecting Tina to dissolve into mist in front of me. I can't take this in, can't believe that after all this time and all that pain, she's really here and really real. "I – I can't believe it. You're real. I don't understand." There's so much going on in my head that it just feels like a faint buzzing, and I realise that I'm gaping, crying, and smiling all at once.

Tina just stares at me in shock, and it's like she's been frozen except that her eyes are flicking around and she's picking anxiously at her fingernails. I almost laugh when I see that she still does that. Then her eyes meet mine and her lip quivers. "Artie," she says again, her voice trembling and disbelieving and scared and hopeful at the same time.

"How is this possible?" I ask. "I don't–"

"Momma!"

I jump at the sudden shout, and so does Tina, both of us turning to where it came from. A tall man with dark hair is walking through the doors to the ballroom, a little boy sleeping in his arms. Darting through the maze of tables is a little blur of pink. When it reaches Tina, she stoops slightly and catches the child that practically flies into her arms. Tina nestles the girl on her hip and smiles, using her free hand to push some of the loose hair from the little girl's forehead.

For the second time in one night, time seems to cease existing. All I can do is stare at Tina, my Tina. Except she's not  _my_  Tina anymore. There's a man by the door walking towards her with a smile on his face, and there's that little boy in his arms and the little girl in hers. Tina is beaming at the girl, and her face is lit in a way I don't think I've ever seen before. This can't be real. Suddenly I'm praying this dream that I wanted to last forever will just end already.

"Artie." I look up when she says my name and Tina's eyes are scared. "Artie, you have to let me explain."

"Explain?" I ask, wincing when I hear the high, hysterical note in my voice. "Explain what, exactly? Do you know what I've been through since you left? I thought you were dead, Tina.  _Dead_. And instead, I find out you've been up here comfortably playing house with some–" I gesture to the man who's hovering a few feet away from her, trying to think up a proper word and failing. "Some other guy."

"It's not like that," Tina says desperately, and I avoid looking at her eyes because I know she's trying not to cry and I can't handle seeing that.

"Is this why you left?" I ask sharply. "To get away from me and start your own little family?" I'm shaking, and I'm not sure whether it's with shock or rage or the need to cry. I can't understand this. All this time I've thought she's dead when really she's living it up with some tall-dark-and-handsome and their kids. I can't take this in. It doesn't make sense.

"I didn't want to leave," she says, and I can't even look at her face now. My gaze slips around, fixating on anything but the people in front of me. "They made me. I didn't want to leave you, Artie. I really didn't."

I choke on my breath, and it takes me a second to realise it was a sob. I quickly shake my head, trying to reassert some control over myself. "I've been killing myself for years because I thought you were dead," I say woodenly. "It was torture because I didn't know what had happened. I had no idea, and it's been driving me crazy for ages, this not knowing."

"They didn't tell you?" The way she says it makes it sound like less of a question and more of a realisation. "They were supposed to tell you. They said they would."

"Tell me what?" I ask hysterically because even though it's been almost ten minutes since we started talking, I still don't know anything more than I did when it started. "What exactly can you say to make finding out my girlfriend abandoned me without a word for a whole other life  _better_?"

"Just look at her, Artie," she pleads, and the sincerity in her tone actually makes me look up at her watery eyes. I wish I hadn't because now I can't make myself look away. "Look at her and tell me you don't know the truth."

I hesitate for a minute, trying to decide whether I dare to or not. Part of me is screaming that this will only make things worse, that once I step down this road there's no going back and it's only going to hurt even more. Part of me is saying to just turn around and leave and never look back, that now that I have my answers I can move on and finally close this chapter of my life. But the biggest part of me just needs to know the truth, needs to know _why_. So I let my eyes flick the few inches to the right at the face of the little girl resting on Tina's hip.

She has a cute, rounded face, with very lightly tanned skin and bright pink spots on her cheeks. The dark hair on her head, just a shade too brown to be considered black, is pulled back in lopsided pigtails that drape over the shoulders of her pink dress. Her lips are in a pensive frown as she stares at me, and her eyes are full, round, and a blue that is all too familiar.

My heart stops.

"No." I've said it before I actually consider it. All I know is this can't be true. This is a whole different kind of pain that I don't know how to deal with. For a second I deliberate, trying not to look at the blur of emotions on Tina's tear-streaked face or the hurt in that little girl's eyes. Then I grab my wheels and turn around, facing the door.

"Awtie!"

I freeze, but only because that isn't Tina's voice. I don't turn back around, but I can hear the light noise of stumbling footsteps and then there's a bright pink little figure in front of me. Her eyes are wide and imploring as she seems to examine the details of my face. She surprises me when she comes closer, to which I reflexively lean back because seeing those eyes so close is sort of scaring me in a way I can't explain. She doesn't seem to mind as she quite abruptly hops into my lap, making my chair roll backwards a bit. On instinct, I grab her sides to stop her from falling off as she wobbles, but she just settles herself sitting cross-legged on my legs, still staring at me.

"You're the Awtie from Momma's stories," she says, and even though I have no idea what she's talking about, she's said it like a statement instead of a question so I can't imagine there's any room for me to argue. "The superhero that saved her and maked her happy again. She said when you were all done saving the world you'd find us. And you came." She smiles at me, a dazzlingly bright smile that's missing a front tooth. Then she gets up on her knees and throws her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly.

My eyes are burning, and my chest feels unnaturally tight. With one arm around her waist to keep her where she's at, my other hand turns my chair until I'm facing Tina and the silent man with the sleeping kid behind her. Once I've stopped, I grab the little girl and carefully lower her down off my lap. She stands in front of me again, her smile flickering and her eyes confused. I can't look at that anymore, so I look up at Tina.

She's watching me, and I can see the wild blend of emotions behind her eyes. She's still fidgeting with her fingernails nervously, and even from this far away I know that she's shaking just as badly as I am. Her eyes are already red and swollen from crying. All I can think is that I love her and this is what she did to me.

"You really have a thing for these big secrets and confessions with me, don't you?" I say bitterly, and this time I leave the room to resounding silence.


	7. More Questions Than Answers

It's three in the morning and I'm laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and trying to make sense of the mess in my head. I don't understand. The facts keep swirling around in my brain, but I can't seem to put them together and make them fit.

Five years, three months, and six days ago, Tina vanished out of my life. She left without any warning and without any hints as to where she'd gone or if she'd come back. Five years, two months, and twenty-four days ago, her parents left town as well, and I lost my last hope of contact that I might have had. And now, out of the blue, I find her - alive and well, living in a city and still singing, with some strange man connected to the picture and that little boy and a little girl.

 _My_ little girl.

After looking at that girl's face, I have no doubts that she's mine. I could pick out the features on her face that I've seen in my mirror every morning. The curve of her chin, the dimple to the side of her mouth, the shape of her ears, and of course those eyes, the exact same shape and colour as mine except that they stand out even more brilliantly against her darker complexion. Even without the physical facts, it was almost like I already knew even before I got a good look at her. I could almost feel it in my chest, something stirring just a little and telling me that something important was nearby. She is definitely mine.

And then an even more insane thought hits me, something that hasn't even really occurred to me before this moment and that leaves me completely breathless.

_I have a daughter._

I didn't even know I can have kids. I've talked to doctors about it before, obviously, but their answers always seem to include variations of the word 'maybe.' There's a  _chance_. It's a  _possibility_. They could never guarantee anything. They gave me percentages and facts and figures, but they had never given me a definitive yes or no. Just that there was a chance. I had never let my hopes get up on the matter because it would only hurt worse if it never worked. So by some miracle, I had actually had a child.

A child who I've only just gotten to meet. My anger and hurt rise back up over my surprise, and I punch my pillow into a more comfortable shape. She knew how much being able to have a child would mean to me, we had talked about it before, about whether we wanted to have a family when we got older. She knew that I had always wanted a family. Then she left and took my baby with her.

My pillow receives another beating. It isn't fair, what she did. Why would she do that? Did she think I wouldn't take care of her? That I wouldn't take care of her and the baby? Maybe she hadn't thought I could be a good enough dad. I know there are some things I can't do, but I would have done everything in my power to be good for that kid. Tina had always believed in me before, believed that I could do even more than I thought I could, so why would she start doubting me now? About this? It isn't fair!

Why did she leave? I just don't understand why she would go. Was it because she was pregnant, or was that part just coincidence? I don't know what sort of coincidence it would be, but I can't accept that she would leave me like that just because I'd gotten her pregnant. Why had she left, and why did she never come back? Or at least call or send a letter or  _something_? It doesn't make any sense.

And who the hell was that guy? He was smiling at her awfully affectionately when he showed up, and he was taking care of her daughter. And what about that little boy he was carrying? Was the boy hers too? Had she come up here with our baby and found a man to take care of her and have a family with? She hadn't really denied it when I'd said that to her. She had left me after I'd gotten her pregnant, and then she'd come here and found a man who could be a real dad to her kid. Someone not broken, who could do all the things I couldn't.

I wish I could stand up right now just so I could go and punch that guy in the face. That's all I need right now. Just put all my frustration and anger and hurt into that motion and get it out of me. Like what Finn did when he found out about Puck and Quinn. I vaguely think that this has got to suck a hell of a lot worse than that did. His girlfriend of a couple months got knocked up by his best friend. My best friend and the girl I loved for years deserted me and took the child I never thought I'd be able to have with her.

Why would she do this to me? I love her. I never stopped even when I thought she was dead. I had always thought she loved me too. The look in her eyes when she'd whisper it to me before falling asleep in my arms, the tenderness when she'd say it after kissing me goodbye, the silly smile when she'd tease me about how I could only get away with things because she loved me so much. That had always looked so real. It was, wasn't it?

But if she'd loved me, why had she left? She had said 'they' made her. Who were they? My first thought is her parents. They never did like me – or her, most days. But that doesn't make sense either because Tina never really let her parents boss her around. What could they have done to make her leave and not tell me what was going on? She wouldn't have just let them do that, not if she loved me. So then who was 'they?' Who had the power to make Tina leave me and never try to get in contact with me again? Especially with a little kid involved?

God, that kid is cute. I realise with a jolt that I don't even know what her name is. Of course, because of all this, there are a lot of things I don't know about the little girl that I should have been there for every minute. I don't know what her birthday is, when or where she was born, how big she was. I don't know what her first words were, or when she took her first steps. I don't know what any of her favourite things are or how she lost that front tooth. Hell, I don't even know exactly how old she is, just that it's somewhere around five years. If I'm her father, I should know all of those things and more.

My brain distantly registers that if I keep this up, I'm going to have to pay the hotel for new pillows since I've just about pummelled this pair to death. Grabbing my phone off the bedside table, I check the time. It's now just after four in the morning. I flatten the pillows out again and lay my head back, staring up at the ceiling. And for the fourth time tonight, I try to just put out the facts and make sense of things, and the cycle starts all over again.

Five years, three months, and six days ago…

* * *

I still haven't fallen asleep when the world beyond the curtained window begins to lighten. I haven't made any progress with my head, either, except to come up with even more questions that I don't know the answers to. My eyes are dry and burning, my head is pounding, and my stomach feels awful, on top of the fact that I'm completely exhausted. Thankfully it's Friday, and I don't have another meeting to attend until Monday. I would not be much use working today.

After a couple hours more of staring blankly at the ceiling and trying to make sense of things that don't make sense, I drag myself up and sit up on the bed, rubbing my itching eyes. The room sways a little around me. It sort of feels like the morning after Puck took me out for my twenty-first birthday, only a lot worse than that. Because today, when I think back to the night before, I'm not met with fuzzy memories of laughing with my friends and dancing with Brittany and flirting shamelessly with a woman way out of my league. Today, the night before is a series of crystal clear images of the girl I love and her new man and my kid I didn't know I had, all laced together with a whole bunch of unanswered questions that I'm not so sure I want the answers to anymore.

I grab a change of clothes and then head to the bathroom, hoping that the shower will wake me up a little since my brain power is currently running on empty. Turning the water on, I let it warm up while I awkwardly manage to undress. When I transfer myself from the chair to the shower bench, the heat of the water stings against my skin. For a moment I reach for the shower knobs, and then I change my mind and draw my hand back, just sitting underneath the spray.

This is a lot to take in. Yesterday morning I was just a relatively average bachelor, working the job to pay the rent and not a whole lot more than that. Today I'm the father of a little kid I didn't even know existed from a woman who I thought was dead. What am I supposed to do about that? I mean obviously Tina didn't want me to be a part of this little girl's life, but can I live with myself if I don't do something?

Come to think of it, what in the world were these stories that Tina's been telling her daughter about me? If she didn't want me to be a part of her life, why tell her about me? I don't know what all that superhero nonsense was, but that kid knew my name, and that's got to mean something, right?

But how can I be a part of her life? I live halfway across the country, and honestly, I spend about a third of the year travelling to different cities. Is there some sort of custody deal for things like that? Do I even want to do that, have to ship that poor little girl back and forth across the country every few months or something? That doesn't seem fair to her.

I groan and tilt my head back, letting the scalding water hit me directly in the face. What did I do to deserve this? It's just my humble opinion, but I think God's definitely already dealt me enough. I'm not one to get self-pitying, but honestly? This seems like so much more than just some icing on a suckish cake. This is adding a second and third layer to the cake, one layer for my mysteriously undead girlfriend and one for my little illegitimate princess.

Although, as much of a hellish nightmare as this has been, I can't deny that something in me already loves that little girl. I'm sure it's just some instinctive parental thing, but now that I know she's there I can't imagine just walking right back out of her life the way I walked in. Rolled, whatever. It's been a long night, I'm not particular about the semantics. All I know is that's  _my_  daughter, and that counts for something.

I brood about this until the water turns cold and only then do I finally reach out and shut off the water. Shivering slightly, because it might have taken me a few minutes to notice the dipping temperature, I grab a towel and laboriously start the task of drying and dressing. Once I'm done and back into the room, I decide I'm in no mood to go out. Instead, I settle myself on the bed again and turn on the television, finding some old daytime sitcom reruns to serve as background noise while I stare vacantly at the screen and try to  _not_  think for a few minutes.

Which I fail at, of course. It's kind of hard when your entire world has been flipped around on you, and you have no answers as to why that's happened.

I'm not sure how long I'm sitting there, alternating between staring into space and struggling to straighten things out in my brain, when I hear the quick knock at my door. It pulls me abruptly back to earth, but I don't even have time to muster up a response before there's a dull beep and the door swings inward.

Several thoughts go through my head at once, but the one that comes out of my mouth is, "You know, I think that this could somehow still be considered breaking and entering, Tina."

Tina just frowns and steps further into the room. "It's not breaking if I have a key," she points out, holding up the key card before tucking it into her pocket. I take in her appearance in interest. She's wearing a grey maid's dress with a pair of white Converse that look like they've seen better days. Her hair is pinned back in a haphazard ponytail, a few loose strands limply framing her face, and one look at her eyes tells me she slept about as much as I did last night.

"It  _was_  you, that first morning," I say, taking in the uniform again. "You were the one in here. Why did you ignore me?"

"I panicked," she says, and her laugh sounds forced and slightly hysterical. "What else could I have done? 'Oh hi, Artie, fancy meeting you here. Long time, no see.' Right, because  _that_  went over so well."

I instinctively recoil at the bitterness in her tone. She had rarely been one to get waspish, so when she did, I knew there was serious trouble. However I'm tired and angry and hurt and not exactly in the mood to take this from her, so even though I've drawn back, I answer, "Well I suppose I should be used to hearing nothing from you by this point, shouldn't I?"

Tina flinches, and I see the guilt and hurt wash up in her eyes, even as she tries to keep her expression neutral. "Look, I know there's a lot of explaining that needs to happen between us, but I honestly don't have the time for it right now," she says flatly. "I'm on the clock, and ever since last year when they found out Mandy Henley was giving private visits to male guests while supposedly working, they've been monitoring how long we spend in each room."

I open my mouth to say something to that, but she glares pointedly at me, and after a second's thought I just shut my mouth and nod. The sooner she spits out whatever she wants to say, the sooner she'll go and leave me be. "She wants to meet you."

This is enough to make me look up at her again, my eyes widening in surprise. "She wants to meet me?" I echo, still trying to process that. "Why?"

There's the smallest smile on her face as Tina rolls her eyes. "Because you're her father, Artie."

I've thought this statement what must be a million times over the last twelve hours, but hearing it out loud leaves me just as stunned as the very first realisation did. I'm her father.  _Father_. My head starts to swim, and I notice I've forgotten to breathe again. I exhale heavily and glance up at Tina again. "You're sure? I mean, that she's mine? I mean–" I trail off, not exactly sure what I mean. Do I  _want_  to hear that Tina was cheating on me before she left, or that promptly after disappearing she hooked up with someone and got pregnant? Yeah, that's a pretty obvious 'no.'

"Yes, I'm sure," Tina says. "And so are you."

I bite my lip and nod because that much is true. "So she knows about me, then? That I'm her father?" I ask, because it doesn't make any sense still.

"She's always known," Tina says firmly. Her lip quivers slightly, and she blinks a few times quickly. "She was up most of last night crying, trying to figure out why her daddy didn't want her. I – I didn't know how to explain the truth to her. How could I tell her–?"

"I don't know how you'd tell her that," I say and I feel just a bit of the edge creeping back into my voice, despite all my attempts to remain toneless. "But they're answers I'd like to hear myself."

"I know, and you'll get them," she says and shoots a quick glance at her watch. "I wish I could stay and do this now and get it over with, but I have to get back to work soon or they'll notice. I have to do a double show tonight, can you watch her while I do?"

"Why doesn't your new man just watch her again?" I ask before I can stop myself.

She looks confused for a moment, and then the comprehension lights on her face and she shakes her head. "Jake?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. Like I know his name, we didn't exactly introduce ourselves last night. "He's my roommate's fiancé. The three of us work alternating shifts, so there's always someone home to watch the kids."

"And the little boy?" I cringe inwardly at the hopefulness in my voice. What am I hopeful for? It doesn't change the fact that she got pregnant with my kid and left, no matter whether she started over again or not. Right?

"Is my roommate's son," she supplies. Her expression softens slightly, and there's the faintest trace of a smile on her lips, even if it's a sad one. "There was never anyone for me after you, Artie."

I don't know what to say to this, so I nod. I'm not sure how I feel about this. I mean, I'm relieved she's not off having some happy home life with some other guy and my kid, but at the same time, I feel guilty thinking that because shouldn't I want what's best for her and my daughter? And there's just something way too intense in what she said, something that feels heavily implied that I'm not sure I want to delve into just yet. I recognise those emotions brimming under the surface, and I am not ready to get into those again.

"Will you do it?" Tina asks, bringing me back to reality. "Watch her tonight?" I hesitate, and she hurries on, "It won't be any huge hassle. By that time of night, it's nearly her bedtime, so she'll fall asleep fast. And I'll be right down in the ballroom if something comes up. Please, Artie, she just wants to know her daddy doesn't hate her."

The image of her hurt face from the night before when I'd lifted her down off my lap and turned away from her flashes in my mind, sending a sharp pain through my chest. She's my daughter, and even though I know nothing about her, I know that I don't hate her. I steel myself, look up at Tina and set my jaw, and then nod.

Tina audibly sighs her relief, and I notice her shoulders relax slightly. "Thank you," she says. "I have to go, but I'll bring her by after six." When I nod again, she actually smiles at me and it almost looks genuine. Then she turns on her heels and heads for the door.

"Oh wait," I call out after her, and she stops, half-turning back to me. "I, uh, just – what's her name?"

"Oh." Her eyes widen and she looks down at her shoes, picking nervously at her fingernails again. Finally, she glances up at me through her lashes, and I'm more than a little surprised to see that she's blushing a brilliant red over her embarrassed smile. "Destiny. Her name is Destiny."


	8. Unexpected Advice

I spend almost an hour putting myself back together after Tina's sudden reappearance. Normally I'm a lot better about composing myself and can do so almost instantaneously, but these last few days have been way over my usual drama amount. It's a lot harder to collect yourself after your supposedly dead girlfriend walks into your hotel room than they make it seem in the movies.

Once I'm under control again, I decide it's time to eat, although I only make it as far as the hotel dining room when I realise it's raining again. Several cups of coffee and a bowl of soup later, I retreat into my room. Even though I don't want to go anywhere, I'm feeling restless and I feel like I should be doing something. Anything.

It doesn't take much thought to figure out why I'm so anxious. At six o'clock tonight, Tina's coming back to drop off the daughter I only just found out existed. Destiny. I smile a little at the name. I know Tina has a romanticist side that she used to keep determinedly hidden, but really? It is a pretty name, though, and I suppose if we're looking at the irony of it, that little girl is definitely changing lives. Well, mostly mine, but still.

What am I supposed to do with her? I mean, it's not like I'm completely clueless about little kids. I practically helped raise Lizzie since I was stuck at home for the most part after the accident, and I have four nephews from my older brother, so it's not like I've never been around little kids. This just seems different somehow. It's not my sibling, or my nephew or niece, it's my kid. My kid that I know next to nothing about.

To say that I'm nervous would be a gross understatement.

What if she doesn't like me? After all, she apparently thinks I'm some kind of superhero. What will happen when she finds out her dad isn't as cool as she thinks he is? Will she not want anything to do with me? I shudder away from the thought.

Sitting around and brooding to myself about this isn't going to help me any. If it were, I would feel better, since that's the way I've been doing it for the last sixteen hours. I feel like I should talk to someone about this, but who? I pull out my phone and open up my contact list, scrolling down until I land on the first likely candidate.

Dad? He might be able to help, but that would be an awkward conversation. "Hey, Dad. Yeah, the trip's great. Can I talk to you about something? Oh, but before I start, you should know you're a grandpa." No, definitely not.

I keep clicking down until the next possible person. I hesitate for a second over Grace's number but ultimately decide against it. I like talking to her, and I'm sure she'd listen, but this isn't her problem to deal with.

Several rejected numbers later, I find Lizzie's cell phone number. I could call her. She knows Tina better than anyone else I could talk to, and she would understand my feelings. My only concern is how could she understand all of what I'm going through? I'm suddenly a parent, and she doesn't know what that feels like. And hopefully won't for another ten, fifteen years if I'm lucky. (Older brother instinct.)

I scan through the rest of the numbers in my phone but don't really come up with any better options. I'm definitely not calling my mom about this. My older brother Jack is a possibility but we aren't as close as we used to be and he's already got enough on his plate. Brittany and I have become good friends, but, well, she's  _Brittany_. The girl is great, don't get me wrong, but she'd likely just ask me if I've seen any tigers or something strange like that. She's not exactly – grounded in reality.

Highlighting my little sister's number again, I let my thumb hover over the button. Do I really want to do this? Do I have a better choice? Maybe I should just keep this to myself for now until I have more answers. Or at least until I've had a chance to talk to Tina. Whenever that is. What if Lizzie's busy with something? Should I interrupt her for this? When did I become such a doubting mess?

My phone suddenly rings and it makes me jump, my hand instinctively closing around it. When I glance down at my palm, I realise that I've pressed the answer button without even seeing who was calling. Cautiously, I lift my phone to my ear and say, "Hello?"

"Hi, Uncle Wheels!"

I blink in surprise at the boisterous shout and then smile. "Hi, Holly," I reply, and Quinn and Puck's seven-year-old daughter giggles into the phone. "How are you?"

"Good. Daddy's taking me to the park, and he's gonna push me on the swings so I can go super high," Holly rambles off excitedly. "Are you in China?"

I laugh. "No, not this time," I say. "I'm in Washington."

"Like with the President?" she gasps.

"No, the other Washington," I correct and she hums in understanding. "Does your Daddy know you called me?"

"Yeah he's right here," she says nonchalantly. Admittedly, it wouldn't be the first time the little Fabray-Puckerman had snagged one of her parents' phones and called people at random. She's a bit of a whirlwind, with all of her mother's energy and her father's self-assuredness. "He told me to call."

"And why did he want you to call?" I ask curiously.

"'Cause I kept asking him if you were gonna be here for the Fourth of July and he said he dunno, but I didn't stop asking, so he said to call you and ask you so I'd shut up," she says matter-of-factly, while I try not to break out laughing. "So, are you gonna? 'Cause Daddy says we're havin' a big party again and you should come and play your guitar with Daddy again like you did last year 'cause that was super fun."

It takes me a second to get my laughter back under control but finally I say, "Yeah, I think I can be there."

She squeals in my ear, and in the background, I hear Puck say, "Whoa there, Hols, quit jumping around, would you?" She just makes another excited noise. "Then give me the phone if you're going to be all crazy, kid. I don't want you dropping it again." There's a muffled sound, and then Puck says, much louder meaning he'd gotten a hold of the phone, "Stay where I can see you, midget."

"Oh c'mon, Noah, you're no fun," I say teasingly, and he laughs.

"Nice to hear from you too," he answers. "Sorry about that but she wouldn't quit asking. Hopefully you weren't doing anything important."

"No, just hiding out in the hotel room," I admit honestly. "It won't stop raining here, it's a miracle this place isn't underwater."

"You're such a girl," Puck says, laughing. I just laugh along because I learned a long time ago he doesn't mean most of the insults that come out of him. I'm convinced he does it entirely on some built-in reflex and that he doesn't even really notice that he does it. It doesn't help he uses insulting nicknames as terms of endearment either. "Live a little. You realise that rain means there will be ladies out there with wet clothes, right?" Then he quickly adds, "Hols, you didn't hear that."

"Hear what?" she chimes back curiously and I laugh when Puck sighs in relief.

"Nothing, bug, just go back to what you're doing," he says dismissively. "And you can stop laughing, Abrams. I'm not talking to you anymore, you're going to get me in trouble with her mom."

"It's not my fault you can't control your mouth in front of your kid," I retort but then something stops me short, and my laugh dies midway. Kid. The surprise of Holly's phone call had distracted me for a second, but now everything that's happened comes back in full force.

"Okay, you just got quiet, which is really weird because you don't shut up," Puck says, and even though he's talking normally, I can tell he's concerned. "Or did some busty blonde just jump in your lap, because I remember that definitely shut you up that one time."

This is enough to get me back to reality. "She didn't jump, she fell," I answer. "As she told me over and over and  _over_  again after it happened."

"Yeah, whatever," Puck says. "So what's up?"

I bite my lip, hesitating. Of all the people I had considered talking to about this, Noah Puckerman had not immediately come to mind. We became friends through Glee, somehow. I'm still not exactly sure how we went from him locking me in porta-potties to us having jam sessions and me being Uncle Wheels to his daughter, but we did. He's probably the closest thing I've had to a best friend since Tina, but talking about something serious to him just seems odd. Mostly because he's firmly against emotions of any kind unless his daughter is involved.

Now that I think about it, though, I think maybe Puck is the right person to talk to. He is one of my closest friends, and he's not a gossip, so the news won't get out (I really don't want everyone calling me for answers before I even know them). He also knows what it's like to have the responsibility of a child suddenly thrust on him, and while our circumstances are different, he'll understand my stress better than any of my other friends will.

"Dude, did you die or something? Because you being this quiet means that you are, like, totally tripping out."

I let out an awkward laugh. "Tripping out would be a good way to describe it, I suppose," I say and then sigh heavily. My resolve wavers for a moment, and I hesitate a minute longer before saying, "I found Tina."

There's a long silence at the other end of the line except for the faint sounds of a kids' show jingle in the background. Then Puck exhales and says, "Wait, what?"

"Tina. I found her," I explain, trying to keep my head under control. "Up here, in Seattle. She's alive. She's got a kid." I pause and then finish, " _My_   kid."

" _Holy shit!_ "

"Daddy! You said the bad word Mommy says not to say!"

"I know, sorry," Puck says quickly. "It's okay, go back to your show." Holly makes an indignant noise and then it's quiet again. "Dude, seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously," I say, and I slump back against the headboard, feeling drained.

"You're sure it's your kid?" he asks. "I mean, not that I'm accusing your girl of cheating or anything, but, well, with everything that happened it's just sort of…" He trails off awkwardly.

"She's definitely mine," I say. "Either that or my brother was the one to knock her up because that little girl looks a lot like me." I groan in frustration. "I haven't really gotten a chance to talk to Tina about what all has happened, but I know for sure that little girl is my kid. And I'm freaking out because Tina's bringing her over tonight so we can – I don't know, get acquainted, and I don't know what to do."

"Wow dude, that's some seriously fu- uh, screwed up stuff," Puck says reverently. "But that's your kid. Do what you gotta do."

"What if she doesn't like me?" I ask, and I feel pathetic the moment it's out of my mouth. Puck snickers a little but doesn't comment. "It's just, Tina's built her up on these fantasies of me being some superhero and I'm not. I mean, I don't want my kid thinking I'm a loser."

"Hey bug, am I a loser?" Puck asks loudly, and in the back, Holly chimes in with an enthusiastic, "Yes, you snore and you like broccoli." Puck makes a noise of protest and she squeals, breaks out in giggles, and I can hear her laughter moving further from the phone as she runs off. "All kids think their dad's a loser, even if he's incredibly badass."

I snort and roll my eyes. "Oh, you think I'm badass? I'm flattered."

"Nice try, Wheels," Puck says, laughing. "All I'm sayin' is there are different kinds of losers. There are losers that are there, and there are losers that aren't. And I'm betting if you ask around, most kids would rather have their snoring and broccoli-liking dad than not have one at all."

I stare the far wall, taking this in. "You know," I say, my awe evident in my tone, "weirdly enough that was actually sorta good advice."

"Yeah, well, don't go expecting it to happen again because that was my quota of fortune cookie," he laughs. "I can't say don't freak out about it because whatever you've got yourself into up there is clearly some really freaky shit. But as far as this kid goes, when it comes down to it, you're her dad and that's all that really matters."

"Thanks, Noah."

"Oh don't get all sentimental on me, Abrams," Puck says in exasperation, and it's only then I realise my throat's gotten thick. "Dude, man up."

I laugh, shaking my head. "Always the encouraging friend, aren't you?" I ask sarcastically.

"Damn straight," Puck answers, and I can practically hear that smirk. "You're cool now, right? You're not going to go all Michael Meyers on that place now?"

"No, I've put away the arsenal of butchering tools," I assure him, grinning.

"Cool. Alright well, I gotta go find my kid. If she messes up that dress, Quinn is going to kill me." I make a whip-crack noise. "Don't push it, Wheels," he says but without any real malice behind it. "I'm  _not_  whipped. I just happen to like my balls still attached to my body, thank you."

"Oh right, of course," I say, trying not to laugh. "Okay, go hunt down the wild spawn of Puckerman."

Puck laughs. "Okay, later." After I repeat the farewell, the line goes dead. I stare at my phone thoughtfully. It may not have been the most conventional advice in the world, but oddly enough, it almost makes me feel better. I still don't know what's going on or how things will work out, but Destiny is my daughter and I'm her dad, and that's a good place to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I'll be the first to admit that this chapter is completely unnecessary as far as the plot progression goes. It was included for my own selfish pleasure, simply because I have always loved the idea of a bromance between Artie and Puck.


	9. A Date with Destiny

The surge of confidence that Puck's bizarre motivational speech gives me is regrettably short-lived. I spend the next two hours trying to keep myself busy so I don't get overwhelmed by my nerves. By a quarter to six, my hotel room is spotlessly reorganised for the third time and all of my presentation work for the week has been edited and prepared.

Glancing up at the clock, I start drumming my fingers against my armrest anxiously. What if Tina changed her mind about this, or Destiny decided she didn't want to stay with a stranger? No, that's ridiculous, this was their idea. What if they were in a car accident on the way here, or they got mugged? No, why am I thinking that? It's just barely after six now, there's no reason to be jumping to the worst case scenarios yet. Besides, Tina never was a punctual person. And it's still raining pretty hard, that could be slowing them down.

I jump at the abrupt knock on the door, checking my watch. Six fourteen. I unlock my wheels so forcefully I nearly bend the brake. Rolling to the door, I take a deep breath to steady myself, and then open it.

My eyes are instantly drawn to the pair of red plaid pants directly in front of me, before moving up over the black top to finally find a face. It's difficult to do anything but stare, because everything from the red knit beanie on her head to the way she's rocking on the heels of her converse trainers is so completely  _Tina_. The Tina that I remember, the one I was in love with in high school, the one I thought was gone from this world. And yet here she is, standing in front of me and looking almost exactly like I always imagine her.

Then I notice the timid blue eyes peeking around Tina's leg and my open jaw snaps shut. This nervous Destiny is so different from the brave and forward child I met last night, and it makes the guilt in my stomach flare to life again as I remember what Tina said this morning. I meet Destiny's gaze around Tina's knee and smile as reassuringly as I can manage.

"Hi, Artie, sorry we're late," Tina says breathlessly. "Home was a madhouse today, it was a nightmare trying to find anything. I spent so much time hunting down Destiny's things I didn't even have a chance to dress for work before we left." She fingers the hook of the garment bag over her shoulder and offers a half-smile that looks strained and awkward.

"Don't worry about it," I say, rolling backwards from the door. "Come in." They walk in, and I'm relieved to see that once they're in the room, Destiny dares to venture out from behind her mother's leg. Her thumb is in her mouth as she leans against Tina's leg and watches me curiously.

"I'm sorry, I hope this isn't a hassle, but she hasn't had dinner yet," Tina explains quickly. "Or a bath. But everything else she should need is in her backpack."

"That's fine, I haven't eaten dinner either," I say honestly, only just realising that I was so intent on distracting myself that I didn't bother to think about dinner. "We can handle it, we'll be fine, won't we, Destiny?" She smiles at me around her thumb and nods.

"Sweetie, thumb out of your mouth," Tina chides gently, and Destiny grudgingly drops her hand. "Um, Artie, this is going to sound weird, but can I use your bathroom to change? I need to be ready in like fifteen minutes."

"Go ahead," I say, nodding towards the bathroom. Tina smiles gratefully, kneels down to whisper something to Destiny, and then disappears into the bathroom. I wait until the door closes, and then turn back to my daughter. "Why don't you come here and we can get your backpack off, okay?"

"'Kay," Destiny agrees and practically skips over to me. I help her ease the straps of the bag, which is denim blue and embroidered with pink flowers and stars, off her arms. After I've twisted to set it on the bed, I look at her again, and she's standing directly in front of me, studying me so intently that her eyes are squinted. I almost laugh because she looks just like Tina, but that thought alone manages to make my smile flicker even before it comes.

"Destiny, hop up here, I want to talk to you about something really fast," I say, putting on my chair brake and then patting my leg. She just smiles and climbs onto my lap, settling herself down cross-legged just like before. I take a calming breath, surveying her questioning face. "I know last night was weird for you, and things might have been really confusing. But you know that you didn't do anything wrong, and I'm not upset with you, right?"

Destiny nods solemnly. "I know," she says. "Momma telled me the stories aren't all the way really real, and when they made her go away with me, you didn't knowed you gave me to her. That's why you didn't knowed me, because I was a secwet present."

Even though I'm not quite following what she's saying, I get the general idea and nod. "That's right, you were a secret. But now I know you, so everything's going to be okay."

"Yep," she agrees without hesitation and gets up on her knees to hug me again. I smile as I hug her back. When she sits down on my legs again, she stares up at me thoughtfully, grinning that missing tooth grin. "I'm happy you finded us."

"Me too, princess." I kiss her forehead and she giggles, making her nose crinkle up.

My gaze slips past her when I notice movement, and I can't stop my eyes from widening slightly. Tina is walking out of the bathroom, and she looks – _wow_. Her dress is dark red and one-shouldered, and her hair is only halfway pulled back, spilling around her neck in black curtains.

"What do you think, Nee-nee?" she asks, getting Destiny's attention. The little girl turns around in my lap and then squeals, clapping her hands.

"Pwetty like a pwincess," she declares, jumping down to run over and hug Tina.

"Thanks," Tina says, smiling fondly at her. Then she looks up at me. "She has a little trouble with her Rs. If you're having trouble understanding her, just tell her to slow down. She can pronounce them when she takes her time, but she tries to talk a mile a minute and gets jumbled."

"Oh right, no, it's no trouble," I say, scrambling to cover my blatant staring. I really shouldn't be gawking at her anyway, considering the fact that this is the woman who deserted me and took my daughter with her. It, unfortunately, doesn't change the fact that she's still the girl I've been in love with for years, and that she looks great.

"I'm sure I can manage," I continue. "I'm used to speech problems." Tina's smile dims, and I realise I've just unintentionally opened that old wound again. Lovely, now I'm insulting her on accident. "Lizzie had that awful lisp when she was little," I remind her.

"Oh yeah, you told me about that," Tina says, but there's something tense in her tone now, and I know she thinks I'm just covering. As if things between us aren't on edge and stiff enough already. "Anyway, my first show is at seven and the second is at ten. I should have a bit of a break between them, so I'll come by and check that everything's okay if I have time. If something comes up, you know where I'll be, and I've left a paper with my flatmates' numbers on it in the front pocket of her bag so you can call them if you need anything."

"We'll be fine," I assure her because I can tell she's just as nervous as I am. She shouldn't be so anxious, it's not like she's leaving her kid with a stranger. I'm the one who's spending his first evening with his child.

Tina nods, chewing on the inside of her cheek and glancing at the clock. "Okay, well I need to go," she announces and kneels down to face Destiny. "Be really good for Artie, okay honey? Promise?"

"Promise," Destiny says, moving her hand over her chest to make an X. Tina smirks and copies the gesture. "Bye Momma. Sing real pretty."

"Just for you," Tina says and hugs her tightly. "Kisses?" Destiny giggles and presses a kiss to both of her cheeks and her nose, and the smile on Tina's face at this is soft and sweet and real in a way I hadn't seen except in that moment in the ballroom yesterday when Destiny first showed up. It makes her even more beautiful.

Tina kisses Destiny's cheek, leaving a red print there, and then stands up. "Thanks for doing this, Artie," she says sincerely. I just nod, because what more can I say? She pats Destiny's head one more time and then turns and leaves, only looking back once in the doorway before she's gone.

"Well," I say, and Destiny spins to look at me, "what do you say to getting some dinner? I'm hungry, what about you?" Destiny squeaks and bounces on her feet, which I'm taking as a yes. I pat my leg again, and she scrambles up into my lap, situating herself so her feet are sticking out over my knees and leaning her back into my chest. I smile as I grab my wallet off the bedside table and then roll us out of the room.

We set up at a table in the dining room, Destiny clambering off my lap onto the chair beside me and sitting on her heels so she can see over the tabletop. Almost instantly a waitress comes over, smiling even as she eyes me. I'm a little confused about why she's giving me that weird look until she turns to Destiny and says, "Hi there, Destiny."

"Hi Ruby," Destiny says brightly. "Ruby, this is my daddy, Artie."

"Really?" Ruby says, eyebrows shooting up in surprise as she glances over at me. "Well, it's nice to meet you. What can I get you both?"

"Cheese sam'ich," Destiny answers immediately, and I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm.

"I'll have the same," I say when Ruby looks at me, and she nods before walking off. "Do you know everyone here, Destiny?"

"Lots of peoples, yeah," she agrees. "Momma brings me here sometimes when there's no one to be with me at home, and the peoples here watch me. It's fun. Ruby makes me cheese sam'iches and Joey plays Go Fish with me when he's not busy."

"That does sound like fun." I lean an elbow on the table, watching her smile as she squirms in her seat. Apparently she's not one for holding still for long. "So have you and your mom always lived here?"

"Yep. Momma likes it here. They let her sing, and that makes her happy. She smiles lots more when she sings." Her wide eyes turn on me. "Momma says you sing pretty too. Do you really sing?"

"Yeah, I sing a little bit," I admit, trying not to blush. Pretty is not an adjective I've ever had tacked on to my singing before, and if it weren't coming from a four-year-old, I would be confused about whether that's a compliment or not. "Do you like to sing?"

"I sing at home with Momma," she says with a self-conscious little shrug. "I don't sound as pretty as her, but she says when I get big I can sing like a star. Will you sing a song for me?"

"Okay, but not here," I say. "After dinner." Destiny beams, clapping her hands together again. "How did you lose that tooth?"

Destiny giggles. "I falled on the stairs," she says, and her tone makes it sound like some exciting adventure. "Momma says it'll come back when I get big. And the tooth fairy gaved me three dollars for it."

"Three dollars? Wow, sounds like a good price to me," I say, and it's not a lie. When I was a kid and lost my teeth, they were worth a quarter a piece. Apparently inflation affects the tooth market too.

I'm distracted from saying anything more by Ruby the waitress coming back, setting plates with a grilled cheese sandwich and fries in front of both of us. I say an enthusiastic thanks to her, and she smiles as she wanders over to another table. Destiny hums excitedly and takes a big bite of the sandwich, and when she sets it down again, she's got melted cheese on her lips. I laugh as I help myself to my own sandwich. Even though it's a simple thing, I haven't had a good old-fashioned grilled cheese in a long time, and I have to admit it tastes excellent.

"Yummy, huh?" Destiny asks, watching for my reaction.

I swallow and nod, saying, "Very yummy." Destiny looks pleased and goes back to her dinner eagerly. We're mostly quiet as we eat, too caught up in our food to care much about conversation. It's only now that I'm eating that I even realise how hungry I am and that I haven't really had much to eat today besides the thin soup and the copious amounts of coffee I drank earlier to stay awake.

As we're eating, I can't help but watch Destiny. It's still hard to process the fact that I'm sitting here having dinner with my daughter. I can look at her and see that she's my child, and deep down I know it's true, but it's just come on so fast that I haven't quite mastered all that comes with it. She's a perfect blend of Tina and me, and for every feature I find that looks like me, I find another that looks like her. Although I have to say, her personality is definitely unique. She doesn't behave quite as much like Tina as I expected her to since that's the only parent she's known. And even if she wasn't my kid, I think anyone would have a hard time not loving her on the spot.

"All finished?" I ask when Destiny pushes aside the few fries left on her plate, looking bored.

"Yep," she answers brightly. I gesture for her to lean closer and grab my napkin, wiping away the cheese stuck to her cheek and chin. She wrinkles her nose but holds still until I'm done. I poke her side when she makes to lean back, and she squeals before breaking down in giggles, clasping her hands over the spot I poked. Note to self: she's apparently very ticklish.

"Think you've got room for some dessert?" I ask and grin when her eyes light up. Looks like she inherited her mother's sweet tooth. I find Ruby in the crowd and gesture her over. When she reaches us, she eyes the plates.

"Want me to take those out of your way?" she asks.

"Yes please," I say, and she picks up the plates. "And could we get a piece of chocolate pie to share?"

"I'll get right on that," Ruby says and leaves again. Destiny is wiggling in her seat more than ever, smiling contentedly.

"You like chocolate pie, right?" I ask, even though I've guessed the answer by her behaviour. She smiles broadly and nods so fast her pigtails bounce against her shoulders. "I thought you might."

Ruby comes back a minute later with the piece of pie and two forks, and we dig in. We take turns asking each other questions between bites, easy little questions mostly involving likes and dislikes. I learn things like that her favourite colour is pink (which I'd already guessed), her favourite food is cheese, she loves the ocean, hates cauliflower, and she wants to be a princess or a ballerina when she grows up.

"What about, when's your birthday?" I ask and then wait expectantly for an answer. I have further motives with this than just knowing when it is and how old that would make her. I need to know when it happened, how long Tina'd known before she disappeared.

"Suh-tember, just like you," Destiny says. "Suh-tember the–" she pauses, setting down her fork and holding up one hand and the thumb of her other hand, "the six."

"That's just two weeks before mine," I say, but my mind is whirring. Nine months before September is December. That means that Tina was carrying Destiny for almost three months before she left. She had to have known by then, hadn't she?

"I'm gonna be five this year," Destiny says, thankfully oblivious to my distraction.

"I know, you're so big," I say. I smile fondly, trying to keep the sadness out of it, as I reach out and brush a hand over her hair. She smiles at the gesture, and my heart breaks and melts at the same time. It doesn't seem fair that she's so old already and I'm only just meeting her, but at the same time I'm just glad to know her at all. What if she'd grown up her whole life without me, or if she'd been a teenager before I met her? Surely this is better than nothing. It's a complicated mess, but she's part of my life now, and I get to be part of hers. Somehow.

"What do you say, princess, want to go back and hear that song?" I ask. She cheers, and without even waiting for prompting this time, she climbs from her chair into my lap. As she snuggles herself against my chest, I set the money for the bill on the table and then roll us out of the dining hall.

We're in the hallway outside my room when Destiny tilts her head back to look up at me. "Artie?"

"Yeah, baby?" I ask, glancing down at those eyes that look so much like mine.

"Can I call you Daddy?" she asks hopefully, and I feel something in my chest catch at the word. "Momma said I has to ask first, cause that's nice manners."

I laugh at that, but at the same time, my eyes are itching a little. "Yeah, call me Daddy," I say. "I – I'd like that."

Destiny grins and then leans back into my chest again. "Okay, Daddy."


	10. Bedtime Stories

When I finish the song, Destiny cheers excitedly and then immediately asks for another one. I laugh, shaking my head. We've already been at it for more than a half hour, Destiny naming songs from all her favourite princess movies, and thankfully they're almost all classic Disney songs that I know from growing up. Once she runs out of suggestions, I sing a few random songs I know how to play on the guitar, mostly Beatles and classic rock standards that I play for work. She applauds enthusiastically when I improvise a guitar solo in the middle of one song, and the rest of the time she is practically bouncing on the bed as she listens, occasionally humming along.

"Another?" Destiny asks hopefully. I place a hand against the still vibrating strings of the guitar and glance at the clock.

"No, I think that's enough for now," I say when I realise it's after nine. I'm kind of hoping there's no one in the rooms on either side of me. "Besides, you still need to take a bath. Your mom will murder me if she sees all that chocolate on your face."

Destiny groans dramatically, rubbing a hand over her face in an attempt to clean it up. "All better?" she asks, and I laugh.

"Not even close, kiddo." I roll over and put my guitar back into its case, strapping it shut. While Destiny falls back against the mattress with a huff, I move into the bathroom and awkwardly manage to lift the bench out of the tub. With that out of the way, I turn on the water, checking the temperature, before stoppering the drain and heading back out into the room.

Destiny is still sprawled on the bed, and when I come in, she looks over at me and pushes her lower lip out in a pout. "Do I _have_ to?" she whines.

"Yes," I say firmly, trying not to smile at her expression. "C'mon, take your bath and then maybe we can do something fun afterwards, okay?"

"O- _kay_ ," Destiny says, stretching the word out resignedly and sliding off the bed. When she stops next to me, I carefully ease the elastic off one of her pigtails and start unbraiding it. "Can you put them back after?"

"Of course I can," I say, finishing with the first braid and moving on to the other one. "I am a master at piggy tails." Unfortunately, this isn't a lie. It's one of my hidden talents, which I keep hidden for a good reason. Weird questions come up when a guy is good at hair, and even after I explain that I have a little sister, I still get strange looks for it.

Her hair now let loose, I realise it has a slight wave to it, unlike Tina's pin-straight hair. I glance upward at where the edge of my fringe curls outward and smile. Another mark for me on the inheritance chart. I help Destiny get undressed and then she climbs into the bathtub as I reach over to shut off the water before it gets too high. Even though she was so against the idea of a bath, once she's in the water she giggles and ducks her head under the surface, blowing bubbles before she pops back up.

Bathing a little kid is just as much of an adventure as I remember it used to be. She's old enough that she can scrub herself, but she still gets overly excited when the shampoo gets foamy, and I end up with my fair share of bubbles on me too. I'm sitting in the doorway of the bathroom, keeping an eye on her and humming "Splish Splash" by Bobby Darin under my breath (because who  _doesn't_  think of this song whenever baths are involved?), when I hear the knock on the door.

"No slipping underwater, okay princess?" I say and wait for Destiny's nod before I roll out to open the door. I'm not all that surprised to see Tina standing there, even if seeing her still does momentarily stun my brain, but she takes one look at the water spots on my clothes and her eyes widen.

"Bathtime?" she asks curiously.

"How'd you guess?" I ask in return, laughing. She reaches out, and I tense when her hand touches my head, but then she pulls it back and I see she's got soapy bubbles on her fingers. "Oh, I suppose that would do it," I concede and then move backwards. "Come in, if you've got the time."

"Is that Momma?" Destiny calls from in the bathroom. Tina smiles as she walks past me and to the bathroom doorway.

"Are you behaving yourself?" she asks, folding her arms and leaning against the door frame casually. I look down at my lap because she used to do that all the time and it looks too normal, which is weirding me out again.

Destiny answers with a loud "yes" and then launches into rambling about what we've done so far. Midway through she's talking so fast and animatedly that she starts stumbling over her words, and Tina has to remind her to slow down. Destiny finishes washing up while she's talking and when she climbs out of the bath, I take one look at Tina's dress and suggest she moves so I can dry off the little girl. The last thing she needs is to go perform in wet clothes, and I'm already wet anyway.

I towel Destiny off, and when I'm done, I look up to see Tina's gotten her pyjamas out of the backpack and brought them over. I'm just helping Destiny to get dressed when Tina makes a noise of annoyance, so I glance over my shoulder at her. "Sorry," she says, blushing, and I can tell she didn't mean to make the sound aloud, "I just noticed I have to get back in a minute."

"They don't give you much downtime, do they?" I ask, trying to keep things light and conversational for Destiny's sake. If it weren't for the little girl listening attentively to everything we're saying, I'd be asking the more serious questions that I can't get out of my head.

"Not on weekend shows," Tina says. She's looking over mine and Destiny's heads, checking her reflection in the bathroom mirror and wiping away a spot where her eyeliner is smudged. Fully dressed once more, Destiny breaks away and hugs Tina's legs. Tina smiles that real smile again and carefully kneels down to hug her back. "You should go to sleep soon, sweetie," she says.

Destiny pouts and protests, "But I'm having fun with Daddy." I notice the way Tina's eyes flick up to me at this, and I know it's the new title that surprises her. Admittedly it still catches me a little off-guard to hear it, but at the same time it sounds right, and that eases the shock.

"Okay, just not too late," Tina says. "It's already after your bedtime." Destiny just grumbles an unintelligible response that makes Tina laugh quietly. "I've gotta go back to work now, okay? Kisses?" They exchange the same sort of farewell as last time, and Tina thanks me again before heading for the door. This time when she hesitates and looks back, Destiny's already climbing up into my lap and demanding that I fix her hair. For the briefest moment, it looks like Tina's actually smiling at me. And then she's gone.

I get Destiny to go sit on the bed while I clean up the mess in the bathroom. When I go over to the bed, she's rummaging through her backpack and just as I'm about to ask what she's looking for she makes a triumphant noise and emerges with a brush clutched in her hand. "Can you fix my braids now?" she asks.

"Alright, give me a second," I say and park my chair beside the bed. I'm aware of Destiny's curious gaze on me the whole time as I heave myself from the chair to the mattress, dragging my legs up after me. It makes me a little self-conscious, but when I've gotten my legs arranged and I look up, instead of commenting on my paralysis, she just crawls over and hands me the brush. I can't help but feel a little relieved at this. Apparently Tina's explained my condition to her before, because she doesn't seem phased by it at all.

I'm a little out of practice, but I still manage to get her hair into two mostly-even braids. She puts the brush back in the heap of things she pulled out of her backpack and then scrambles up the bed to sit down beside me. I loop an arm around her as she snuggles against my side and gazes up at me.

"Daddy, I don't wanna go to bed yet," she complains, and I smile. "Tell me about, um–" she stops, humming thoughtfully, and then her gaze lights up, "about your family. Momma says you have a big family."

"Sort of," I agree. "Not really huge, but compared to your mom's I guess it is big." It feels really weird, telling my daughter all about my family, but the longer I'm talking, the easier it gets. Destiny makes for a good audience and she asks a lot of questions. By the time I'm running out of things to tell, I think she might revere Lizzie. Not too strange, since they're a lot alike, really. "Why don't you tell me something now?" I suggest, mostly because my throat is dry from talking. Then my curiosity spikes suddenly and I add, "What about those stories your mom tells you? Tell me those."

"The stories about you and Momma?" she asks, and I nod. She wriggles out of my arm and sits up facing me, her expression getting about as serious as a four-year-old's can. "Well, once there was a pretty girl named Tina. She wasn't a princess, Momma says that a lot. She was just a girl, but she lived with an evil king and queen. And when she was little, there was a time when a mean teacher made her talked all about the misery."

"You mean Missouri?" I ask in amusement.

Destiny shakes her head confidently. "No, misery," she corrects, and I just nod in agreement. "Well, the mean teacher was really a witch, and she didn't like what Momma said about the misery, so she put a cursed on her. It made her so she couldn't talk right. Momma calls it a Sputter curse."

"Oh yeah, I've heard of that curse, it's a bad one," I agree, trying not to laugh. Leave it to Tina to turn her life story into an epic faerie tale.

"It  _was_  bad," Destiny says dramatically. "She didn't talk right, so people laughed at her and they didn't talk to her no more, and she was really alone. But then she met a really nice guy that talked to her even though she didn't talk right, and he was her friend. He was named Artie. That's you," she informs me pointedly, and I nod my understanding. "Momma says he was the nicest person in the world, and she falled in love with him.

"And then one day Artie and Tina kissed, just like the prince and princess are supposed to, and it was a magic kiss because it made the Sputter curse go away. Then she could talk right, and it made them both really happy because they were in love." I blush self-consciously because that's not exactly how it happened. In real life, the disappearance of Tina's 'curse' had been anything but a happy moment between us. We patched things up eventually, but it had been tense for a while. Although I'm glad Tina blurred that detail in her story. I still feel guilty when I think about how I reacted that night, even if it was sort of warranted.

"Are you listening?" Destiny asks, patting my arm to get my attention again.

"Yeah, I'm listening, keep going," I say, and she nods, pursing her lips thoughtfully until she apparently decides where to pick up the story.

"So they was in love and was gonna to grow up and get married," she continues, "but the evil king and queen didn't want them to. They didn't like Momma and didn't want her to be happy. So they made a plan to have her taken far, far away and lock her up where Artie could never ever find her. Artie found out, and he went to see her. He didn't have time to save her, but before she went away, he gave her a present – the secret one – and promised that if she keeped the present, he would come find her. The present was a baby, and that was me."

Destiny watches me expectantly while I take in the details of the story. While I can tell most of it is a fabrication, there are definitely places I can see where it parallels reality. The question is, how much of it is based on the truth? There's one question that this story has given a vague answer to, but at the same time, I've come up with about a dozen more that I have no clue about.

"That's a good story," I say, and Destiny smiles proudly. "Your mom tells you that one a lot?"

"She used to telled it to me every night, but she doesn't as much no more," she answers. "It makes her sad when she says it. She doesn't cry, but I can see she's sad. She gets those frowny lines right here." Destiny presses the tip of her pointer fingers against the inner corners of her eyes. I bite my lip and nod, and she lets her hands fall into her lap. "Do you get sad without Momma?"

My heart plummets and my stomach jumps up into my throat at the same time, which is not a pleasant experience. How do I explain this to her? She's only a kid, she won't understand what's going on. Hell, I don't even understand what's going on right now. Finally, I settle on the truth, or at least part of it. "Yeah, princess, I do," I admit, sighing heavily. "When your mum went away, it made me really sad."

Destiny curls up against my side again, nuzzling her face into my chest. "But now things will be okay again, right?" she asks hopefully, glancing upward and fixing me with that big blue stare. For a moment, I wonder if my eyes ever have that much an effect on people, but I'm pretty sure they can't because if they did, I could own the world by now.

"We'll find a way," I say because I can't find it in myself to dash the hope in her gaze. "Your mom and I, we'll find a way to make everything okay for you."

She nods, and there is nothing but complete trust in her eyes. It makes my chest tighten a little because I realise just how much of responsibility that much trust is. For the first time, it really hits me that as her father I have this power to either make or break her entire world depending on what I do with her trust. It's a mortally terrifying prospect that makes me even more afraid of saying something that can come back to bite me in the ass later.

"I think it's time for someone to go to sleep," I say and Destiny grumbles and shakes her head, even as she yawns. My gaze slips to the pile of things from her bag, and something in it gives me an idea. "Is that a movie I see in your backpack?"

"My favourite," she says eagerly, crawling over to grab the case and handing it to me.

"The Little Mermaid," I read off the cover. "This is a good one. How about we settle down here on the bed and watch it together?" When she agrees, I lower myself back into my chair and roll over to the television on the stand across the room. It takes me a minute to figure out the setup, but eventually I get the movie in and grab the remotes before heading back to the bed.

We prop ourselves up on the pillows so we're laying down but can still see the TV. I manage to get her tucked in under the blankets by convincing her I'm cold, and she snuggles up against my side as I start the movie. She hums along with the music in the beginning, but hardly fifteen minutes into the movie her voice trails off, and five minutes later she's fast asleep with her face buried in my side. I smile victoriously. Just like how I used to get Lizzie to go to sleep when she was little, although her movie of preference was Aladdin.

I slide the arm that isn't around Destiny under my head, making myself comfortable. It's been a crazy evening, but I'm still happy with it. The whole suddenly being a father thing is still mind-boggling but I already love Destiny, and I'm feeling kind of confident that she loves me too. Either way, it feels right to be spending time with her, and I'm determined that I will find a way to be able to keep spending time with her in the future. Somehow.

Now I just have to keep myself going until Tina gets done with work. It's been a long couple of days, and I realise I've basically been awake since seven o'clock yesterday morning. Thank God I still have the rest of the weekend to recover because I'm going to be a zombie. It's a miracle I'm still conscious and coherent.

I press a light kiss against Destiny's head and murmur, "G'night, Dee," before settling myself back to watch the movie through half-lidded eyes.


	11. Miscommunication

"Artie?"

I grumble and try to shrug away the hand on my shoulder. The grip tightens and pushes back slightly, so I frown and groan, rolling my head to the other side away from the voice. There's an amused huff, and I feel a light touch against a ticklish spot on my side.

"No," I mumble sullenly, trying to move away but not doing a good job of it.

"Careful, you'll wake her up," the voice warns suddenly. I hold still again, my brow furrowing in confusion. Wait, _what_? I grudgingly blink and squint in the direction of the voice. My glasses are sitting at a funny angle so I can only see through one lens, but it's enough to make out the face hovering beside me.

"Tina?" I ask, trying to get my sleepy brain to catch up with me. "This is a weird dream," I mutter, lifting a hand to straighten out my glasses. I've had a lot of Tina-dreams through the years, but this is a new concept. Although I have to give my imagination props because she looks hot.

Then I feel something shifting against my other side and look over. There's a little ball of pink and black curled up half beneath the covers, and I have to squint closer to figure out what exactly it is. The details start filtering back gradually. That's my daughter. Which means this is not a dream. Awkward.

"Sorry, I didn't want to wake you, but I figured it was nicer than you waking up and her being gone," Tina whispers, and I turn to look at her again.

"How'd you get in?" I ask, still trying to put everything back together in my head. She definitely wasn't here when I fell asleep.

"I grabbed the master key from the maids' office," she answers. "I was afraid if I knocked it would wake her up. I didn't realise you'd fallen asleep too."

"Me neither," I admit. The last thing I remember I was watching the movie, I don't even remember falling asleep. I carefully extract my arm from around Destiny and sit up, making sure my movement doesn't tug the covers off her. My eyes drift to the clock, and I see it's nearly one in the morning. "That was a long show."

"Double encore," Tina says, and I see a pleased flush on her cheeks at this. "Don't worry about getting up, I'll just get her and go," she says and turns to walk around to the other side of the bed.

"No, wait." I reach out to grab her arm, stopping her. She tenses under my touch, but I don't let go because I can't let her just slip away this time. "Tina, I need to know. I can't keep going like this, you've got to tell me what happened."

"Right now?" she asks quietly, not meeting my eye. When I follow her gaze, I realise she's staring at Destiny. I nod and release her arm, moving into my chair as quickly as I can without jostling the bed. Tina finally looks at me, and I point in the direction of the sofa on the far end of the room, where we can talk without the noise bothering Destiny.

She is still hesitating as I start moving toward the sofa, chewing on the inside of her cheek and picking at her fingernails. I sigh and look up at her face, saying, "You owe me this much. The truth. That's all I want." For a moment she looks like she'll refuse, but then she nods and crosses to the sofa silently. She sits down and slips out of her heels, tucking her legs up beside her. I roll over so I'm facing the sofa and keep my hands on the wheels in a vain attempt to keep from fidgeting.

Tina is staring at her hands as she twists them in her lap. After a few silent minutes, she sighs. "I don't know where to start," she whispers, and there's a note of desperation in her voice.

I frown at my knees. "March eleventh, two-thousand-twelve," I say robotically, the date well engrained in my head. "Start there."

"I was going to tell you I was pregnant," she says in a rush. "I found out that night. I asked you to come over the next day so I could tell you in person. You didn't answer, and then they found out, and they made me leave before I could tell you, but they said they would. They really didn't tell you? They said they did, and that you were angry, and I just thought…"

"Who?" I ask when she trails off, even though I have an idea.

She looks confused. "My parents."

I scoff. "Yeah, right, they made me tea and told me the whole story right before they tried to have me  _arrested_ ," I say sarcastically, shaking my head. I might still be just a little bitter about that one. Tina looks completely aghast at this, so I explain, trying (and failing) to keep the condescension out of my tone. "The only reason I don't have a criminal record now is that all of the police in Lima know my family, so the officer just called my dad to go get me instead."

"Why do all the cops know your family?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Jack," I say by way of an answer, and she nods in understanding. My older brother was slightly less law-abiding than the rest of the family. Nothing serious, just truancy and joyriding and he got caught at a couple of parties that got too rowdy while in high school. It's enough that all the police knew his name, but never actually had to throw him behind bars.

"Why did they call the cops?"

I clear my throat awkwardly. It's not a day I particularly like reminiscing about. "I went over to your house, the day you vanished. I was getting worried because you weren't answering my calls. So I hammered on the door until your mom answered. She just told me you had disappeared and then told me to leave. I – I just wanted answers, so I kept knocking. Apparently that's a form of harassment, and she called the cops to get rid of me."

Tina leans back into the couch cushion, exhaling heavily and pulling her hand back through her hair. "She didn't tell you more than that?"

"All she said was that you'd vanished and she didn't know where you'd gone or if you were ever coming back," I say flatly.

"I don't understand," she mutters, more to herself than to me I think. "They said they told you."

I laugh darkly and mumble, "Hmm, your parents lied? Shocker." She ignores my comment, still looking like she's trying to process everything. Unfortunately, my patience is sitting as less than normal, so I press on. "Where did you go?"

"My dad was the one who found me out," she says, speaking in the direction of my feet. "I had snuck out after they fell asleep to go to the drugstore and buy tests because I thought I might be pregnant. When I found out I was, that's when I sent you that text. Not too long after that, my stomach acted up, and I was throwing up again. The noise woke Dad up, and he came in to check on me. I'd left the tests in the sink and he saw them.

"He flipped out. You know how they are, shouting about disgrace and all that. They wanted me to–" she stops, looking sick, and folds her hands over her stomach in a protective way I've seen before. I suddenly know what they wanted before she even manages to summon up the strength to say the word. "To have an abortion, but I couldn't do it. I wouldn't. It was our baby, and even though it was unexpected and too soon, I knew what it would mean to you, to both of us. I couldn't just get rid of her like that. Other people, they don't understand the connection you feel when you're pregnant. I'd only known she was in there for a few hours, but I loved her and I couldn't do what they wanted."

She sighs, her eyes drifting past me to fix on the lump in the blankets where Destiny is sleeping. "So they shipped me off. I didn't get to pack or even call you and let you know. Dad just grabbed me and dragged me out to the car, and we left right then, even though it was four in the morning. I don't know how he did it, but he drove us straight through to California. The only time we ever stopped was at gas stations to refill the car. He never let me out of his sight. I wanted to get away, I tried a couple times, but I was weak from all the morning sickness, and it didn't do me any good.

"There's a place in California, a hospital of sorts, called St. Agnes'. They take in pregnant teenagers, give them a place to live while they're pregnant and make sure that they stay healthy and off the streets. It sounds like it should be nice, but the place is like a prison. Once you're there, you can't leave again until after the baby is born and old enough to travel. You're not allowed to have any contact with the outside world, except what's brought in. You can receive letters, but you can't send them, same with phone calls and visits. That's where my dad signed me over to. I was still under eighteen, so he had the legal custody to do it. I didn't have a choice."

There are tears at the corners of her eyes, and she blinks them away. I feel guilty pressuring her when she's obviously so distraught, but it still doesn't make sense to me and my need to finally understand overpowers my conscience. "But you turned eighteen in June," I point out. "Why didn't you leave then?"

She lets out a humourless laugh. "On my eighteenth birthday I was almost seven months pregnant and had nowhere else to go," she says. "My parents had called me a few weeks after they dropped me there. They said they'd told you the truth and you'd been furious that I hadn't just given up the baby. That you were done with me, and that you had already moved on. And in that same call, they told me not to bother coming to them for anything, because they were done with me too."

"You believed that, what they said about me?" I ask in shock. "How could you think I would do something like that?"

"I didn't know what to think, Artie," she says wearily. "I didn't want to believe it. For months I waited for you to call, or send a letter, or come out and find me. But nothing ever came, and I didn't know what to think anymore. Being in that place, it doesn't do good things to your head. I had to listen to all the other girls, girls whose stories were even worse than mine, and that was all I ever heard. Bad things. It got really hard to believe in anything good anymore.

"So I stayed there until she was born. She was really sick at first, there was something wrong with her lungs, and they didn't think she was going to make it. But she did, she got better and by the time she was four months old she was a perfectly healthy baby."

"I don't – I just don't understand," I say in frustration, dragging my hands through my hair wildly. "Why didn't you just come home?"

"I did." There's a high, hysterical note in her voice and she looks up at me, her gaze wide and frantic. A second later, she realises what she's done and looks past me at the bed again. We both wait in silence, but Destiny doesn't even stir, and finally after a minute we both breathe sighs of relief. "I did," she repeats in a lower tone. "As soon as Destiny was healthy enough to travel, we went to Lima. And you were  _gone_." Her expression suddenly settles into a crushed scowl, and she glares at me. "You had moved to Illinois. With Brittany."

I gape at her, feeling sort of like I've been hit in the head with something heavy. Even though I've had a hard time drinking in everything else I've heard tonight, this one goes straight over the top of my head in a way nothing else did. "I – what - so?"

" _So_?" she echoes disbelievingly, raising an eyebrow at me. "Do you know what it was like for me, Artie, coming back and finding out that my parents were right? You had given up on me and moved on and started something new for yourself."

"Wait, you think – me and _Brittany_?" I ask, still trying to grip what she's implying.

"Oh please, we both know she always liked you in high school," she says, and there's bitterness in her voice now, "even though you always said you didn't return it. And then I come back and you've moved away together?"

"We moved together because we were going to the same college," I say defensively. "We were moving into the same apartment building by the campus, so we drove down together. You know Brittany, she gets lost in the _mall_. It was never anything more than that. And even if it was, didn't you think I deserved to know I was a father?"

"I thought you did know," she hisses. "Didn't I explain that? When I found out you were gone, I thought that what my parents had told me must have been real. I thought you knew and didn't want anything to do with me anymore. And I figured if you were happy in your new life then I had no right to come in and ruin that for you."

I stare at her in awe, taking this in. "So you just left again?"

"I had made friends with another girl in St. Agnes', she got out a while before me. She offered to let me live with her until I could get out on my own," she says, and the exhaustion is back in her tone again. "So Destiny and I came to Seattle to live with my friend, and we've been here ever since."

"And what were you going to tell Destiny?" I ask, feeling a frustration of my own building up. "Were you just going to keep lying to her? Telling her that someday her superhero dad would just sweep in out of nowhere and make everything in the world right again? What would you have done if I never showed up? What would you tell her when she grew up wondering why her father never came back for her?"

"I don't know." Her eyes are bright again and this time, when she blinks the tears roll over her cheeks. "I don't know what I was going to do. I had no idea what I was doing. This's not really the sort of thing I asked for, Artie. I made things up as I was going because all I could do was do whatever I could to keep her happy. I didn't think about the consequences or the future. All I had time for was making sure that she had as good a life as I could give her now, and take things as they came. I wasn't ready for this, for being an orphaned single mother at eighteen. It's not like this has been  _easy_  for me."

She lifts a hand and wipes at the mascara streaks on her cheeks, but she surprises me when she doesn't lower her head and hide her face like she used to do when she was upset. Instead, she keeps her chin lifted, her jaw set almost defiantly. It's a show of strength that catches me off guard, and her words really sink in. I swallow hard around the lump in my throat and twist to look over my shoulder at the bed.

"She's a really great kid, though," I say with a faint smile, and when I turn back to Tina, she stares me straight in the eyes. "You've done a good job with her."

Her smile is soft and genuine. "Thanks," she says, but the weight behind her words says it means a lot more than she's acting like it does. She takes a deep breath and then glances up at the clock. "It's almost three, I should be getting her home."

"You – you're free to stay, if you need," I offer, surprising myself as much as her. "I mean, it's really late, it's probably not safe to be out on the streets alone right now. And she's asleep. You don't want to have to move her."

"That's really sweet," she says, "but I have to be there to take care of Tanner when his parents go to work."

I bite my lip and nod. "Oh, right, I forgot about that," I say lamely.

Tina stands up from the couch and grabs her shoes from the floor, walking over to the garment bag she left beside the door. I watch curiously as she drops the heels into the bag and then pulls out her trainers, slipping them onto her feet. I can't hold back the laugh, and she turns to give me a curious look. "Only you could rock a formal dress with Converse," I remark and for the first time, the smile she directs at me looks like the ones I used to get years ago.

"It's better than sweater vests and suspenders," she shoots back, grinning as she straightens up and slings the bag over her shoulder. She turns to the bed and then hesitates, looking down at Destiny curled into a tight ball so only the back of her head is visible beneath the covers.

"Maybe…" She trails off, chewing on the inside of her cheek, before glancing over at me. "Maybe I shouldn't move her, though. She didn't sleep much last night, and she's really tired. Maybe I can just let her sleep and come back to pick her up in the morning after I get Tanner?"

"Yeah," I say, perhaps a little too quickly. "That sounds like a good idea. She'll be okay with that, right?"

Tina smiles a bit at this. "I think she'll be fine with it."

"You'll be okay to get home, won't you?" I ask, casting a nervous glance at the darkness I can see through the crack in the curtains.

"It's only three blocks, I'll be fine," she answers. "So I guess I'll come back for her tomorrow." She hoists her bag higher onto her shoulder, gives me a wave, and then turns toward the door. Just as she reaches for the handle, she pauses and swivels back. "Thanks for being so good to her, Artie. She'll really – it'll mean a lot to her."

I'm a little stunned by this (what else would I be to her; evil?), but I nod. "Of course," I say. She waves again and turns back to the door. "Good night," I add.

"Good night, Artie," she says over her shoulder and then she leaves. For a minute I sit and stare at the closed door behind her, but then I realise I'm way too tired to be able to sit and think about things. I'll process all of this in the morning after I've gotten some sleep.

I change into my pyjamas as quietly as I can and then ease myself onto the bed beside the lump of blankets again. Once I'm comfortable, I set my glasses on the bedside table and slip an arm protectively around Destiny, who doesn't even stir. Heavy sleeper, apparently, just like her dad. I smile and close my eyes, and it seems like it's hardly seconds before I'm out.


	12. Awkward Silences

I grunt as I feel an uncomfortable jab in my stomach, waking me up. Now that I'm awake, I realise it's sort of hard to breathe. My lungs feel sort of tight and crushed, so my breaths are coming in shallow. After a few seconds, my foggy brain drags up ominous warnings from doctors about possible complications of my condition and my eyes fly open in a panic. Almost instantly, I relax because I figure out the reason for the pressure on my vital organs.

There's about forty pounds of pink polka-dot pyjamas and pigtails curled up on my torso like a cat.

"Dee, are you awake?" I ask quietly, my voice still thick with sleep. Destiny shifts, her little heel once again digging into what I think might be my pancreas, and tilts her head back to smile up at me.

"Morning, Daddy," she mumbles, and then promptly yawns. When she's finished, she fixes me with a curious stare and asks, "Where's Momma?"

"She went home to sleep and pick up Tanner," I answer because I can tell she's worried about her mother's disappearance. "She's going to come back and get you later because she didn't want to wake you up."

"Oh." She seems pacified with the answer and settles her cheek against my chest again. When she starts blinking sleepily, looking like she might fall asleep again, I lift a hand and poke her side lightly. She shrieks with giggles, squirming under my hand as I keep poking her until she finally wriggles enough to slip off my chest and onto the mattress.

I'm laughing at her when suddenly I feel her fingers on the sides of my ribs, and I yelp in surprise. She is smirking playfully, and I have to bite down on my lip to stop myself from laughing as she keeps tickling me. Finally, I can't hold it back any longer, and I burst out laughing, trying desperately to scoot away from her but not really having any place to escape to.

"Okay, okay, I give up," I pant out between laughs and the moment she pulls her hands back, I sit up and scoop her into my arms. She squeals and wraps her arms around my neck, giggling into my shoulder. I set her down on my lap, and she stares up at me with those wide, innocent blue eyes. "How did you know I was ticklish?"

"Momma said so," she says matter-of-factly. "She says I'm ticklish just like you."

"Oh really? Well, you should know your mom is ticklish too," I say, and her eyes widen mischievously. "Her feet are really ticklish, just be careful she doesn't kick you if you tickle her." I instinctively flex my jaw at this, remembering more than one time I took an accidental foot to the face while trying it. Destiny giggles in her excitement and I can't help but smile at the fact that I know it won't be long before Tina's feet get attacked. Ah, sweet Karma. "Does your mom tell you about me a lot?" I ask curiously.

She nods, casually twirling the end of one of her pigtails through her fingers. "She tells me lots that I'm like you," she says. Then she gets a really excited look on her face, patting my chest to make sure I'm paying attention, and adds, "Like I like mushwooms on pizza, like you. Lots of 'em."

I laugh. "That is just like me," I agree, and she wriggles in pleasure at this. In my head, I'm just musing about the fact that Tina talks so openly about me to Destiny. If she was so angry at me for thinking I'd abandoned her, how did she talk so easily about me? I'd spent most of the last five years mentioning her as little as possible, simply because it hurt too much. I push away this line of thought. There's no way I'm going to understand everything right now, so there's no point in fussing about it when I've got other things to worry about.

I reach over to grab my glasses, and once I can see I look up at the clock. It's just after nine. Tina didn't mention what time she was coming to get Destiny, and I'm not really sure whether we have time to do anything before she shows up. I glance down at Destiny, who has her thumb in her mouth again as she peers around the room curiously. Just as I open my mouth to ask her if there's anything she'd like to do, her stomach makes a gurgling noise. She looks surprised as she looks down at it, and then she starts laughing so hard she nearly falls over.

"My tummy made a hungwy noise," she says through her giggles like it's some hilarious joke. I'm laughing more at her moment of wide-eyed surprise as I nod in agreement.

"That it did," I say. "How about we go get some breakfast while we wait for your mom to come?"

An hour later, Destiny and I are both dressed for the day and sitting in the dining hall with plates of pancakes in front of us. I keep one eye on Destiny while I'm eating, making sure she doesn't eat too quickly because this little girl is way too enthusiastic about food. That check on the inheritance chart definitely goes to Tina.

Just as I'm about to start on my third cup of coffee, I see Destiny look past me, and her eyes widen as she smiles around her mouthful of pancake. It gives me just enough of a warning that when the voice speaks up from behind me, I only jump a little.

"Good morning."

Destiny swallows quickly. "Momma!" she cheers excitedly. I finally catch sight of Tina as she walks over to give Destiny a hug. When I twist to see better, I notice the little boy I saw the other night is trailing behind her, staring at my chair with wide eyes.

"I'm glad you got the note," I say as Tina straightens up. "I was afraid a cleaning lady might come by and take it down."

Tina turns to me and smiles. "Actually I haven't seen the note yet," she admits. "We stopped by here on our way to your room. I figured if she was awake there'd be a good chance you'd be here. She can't seem to go long after waking up before eating, and when she wants food, she is good at making it known."

"Just like mom, huh?" I tease, and Tina smirks. I reach around to pat the seat on my other side. "Why don't you join us? Have you guys had breakfast yet?"

"We ate a little," Tina says and then glances down at Destiny again. "Although it looks like Tanner is already helping himself to Destiny's breakfast." I blink in surprise and look down to see the little boy has pulled himself up onto the chair next to Destiny and is helping her eat the pancakes. Tina seems to hesitate for a second and then walks around me to sit down in the last vacant chair.

I've just opened my mouth to ask Tina something when she lets out a muffled laugh. My eyebrows come together. "What?"

"Did you feast on flesh for breakfast?" she asks in amusement and then gestures at the corner of her mouth. I brush the pad of my thumb against the corner of my mouth, and it comes away sticky and red.

"Oh, no, that's strawberry syrup," I say with a laugh, wiping my hand on my napkin.

"You hate strawberries," Tina says, and now she looks confused.

"Well, yeah, but she doesn't," I say and nod my head in Destiny's direction. "It was sort of hard to tell her no when she flashed that sad puppy look at me."

Tina smiles softly, even if there's a bit of mischief in her eyes. "She does have that effect on people," she agrees. "It's about time someone gives you a taste of your own medicine." I try not to laugh, but I can't stop the smug smile. Way back in high school, it had driven her nuts how easily I could change her mind with a simple pout. "How did she do last night?" she asks quietly.

"She was great," I assure her. "I was worried she might have trouble this morning, waking up somewhere unfamiliar, but she just ended up curling up on my chest and going back to sleep."

Tina snorts back a laugh. "Yeah, she does that a lot."

"What about you, did you get any sleep?" I ask, examining her face closer. "You look exhausted."

"I slept a little," she says off-handedly, not meeting my eyes. "But not long after I fell asleep, I had to wake up to take care of Tanner."

"Sorry, I probably shouldn't have kept you so late last night," I say, but before I've even finished the sentence, Tina is shaking her head.

"Don't apologise," she says firmly. "It needed to be done, and I'm glad it's done now. With my crazy schedule, it's not like there will be another better time for it to happen." She furrows her forehead in confusion and looks at me curiously. "I never did ask, why are you here? In Seattle, I mean."

"Work," I answer instantly. "Business meetings, contracts to be signed, products to market."

"I never would have pegged you for a businessman," Tina says thoughtfully.

I can't help but laugh. "Well, calling me a businessman might be a bit of a stretch," I say. "I'm the sort of businessman that gets paid to go to dinner with recording companies and play guitar with students in music schools."

"You've even gone more casual with your look," she remarks, and I blush as I feel her eyes pan over me. "I mean, the shirt doesn't have buttons down the front. No suspenders. Jeans."

"Weekend relaxing attire," I shrug. I awkwardly tug at the neckline of my plain navy blue shirt. "I only dress like this on downtime. But look at you. You're wearing jeans."

Tina laughs and picks at a fading spot in the knee of her dark jeans. "I found out pretty quickly that being a mother to such an active little kid, jeans are much more practical than dresses."

"I have to say, I miss the streaks in your hair, though," I say, casting a quick glance at the solid black sheet.

"So do I," she says and twists a piece of hair around her finger. Again, the motion is so similar that for a moment I feel like I'm being strung across two different lifetimes. "But the lounge job won't let me keep them. They aren't professional looking." Her eyes land on my lap and I feel heat creeping up the back of my neck as I stare wide-eyed at her. "Your new gloves look more professional, though," she says, and I glance down at my hands in my lap. I almost laugh as I realise that's what she was looking at. "You switched to plain black. Why?"

I clear my throat uneasily and pick at the fabric. "I was in mourning," I say, not meeting her gaze. I hear her breath a little 'oh' of surprise, and when I finally dare to look up at her, she is staring pointedly at her fingernails. We fall into an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the sounds of Destiny relaying all the details of her night to Tanner around their mouthfuls of pancake.

"Artie?" I look up, and Tina is staring at me with a sort of calm resolve in her gaze. "I know that things are nowhere near being fixed between us and that there are still a lot of things that need to be addressed, but I wanted to thank you for giving me the chance to explain myself this time."

I don't miss the implication in that, and I manage to control the impulse to wince. This time. Last time with the stutter, it had taken me a lot longer before I was willing to even listen to what she wanted to tell me. Of course, after last time I had been able to forgive her a lot more quickly. I'm not quite to the point of forgiveness in this one, and I honestly don't know if I ever will be. A child I never knew about is definitely a lot bigger than a faked speech impediment.

Tina takes a steadying breath and then finishes, "I just want us to be able to be some sort of friends, for Destiny's sake. Things between us are still royally screwed up, and I don't see how things can be put back the way they were, but I don't want to have her growing up with parents that hate each other."

I shake my head. "No, I understand that," I say. "She doesn't deserve that. And I don't hate you. I don't understand this, and I don't quite know what to think about any of it yet, but I don't hate you. At least, I don't think so."

Tina laughs quietly, and I smile at the way it softens her expression. "I know what you mean," she says. She sighs and leans an elbow on the tabletop, resting her chin in her hand. "How long are you going to be here?"

"My plane is leaving Thursday morning." I pause, mentally counting how long that is.

"Five days," we both breathe at the same time. A heavy quiet settles between us as we both think about what exactly that means for our situation.

"Oh God, Artie, how are we going to do this?" Tina asks in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

"I don't know," I say honestly, running a hand back through my hair. "But we'll have to figure something out." I hesitate and glance sideways to see that Destiny has finished eating, and she and the little boy keeping shooting curious looks at us. "Later," I add to Tina. "We'll have to worry about it later."

Tina follows my eyes and then nods. "Right," she says, clearing her throat. "Because I need to get these two home." She stands up, tugging at the hem of her top in a way that's all too familiar. "So we'll talk later. C'mon kids, should we get going?"

Destiny grumbles a little, but she obliges when Tina tells her to say goodbye. She climbs up into my lap to give me a hug, and I bite back a laugh as she presses sticky, syrupy kisses to both my cheeks and then my nose. "Bye, Dee," I say. "Don't worry, I'll see you again soon, okay?" When she nods, I glance up at Tina and ask, "Did you need me to watch her tonight while you do your show?"

"Actually Tanner's parents are taking them out tonight," Tina says, and her expression seems apologetic. "They do it every Saturday night."

"Oh, okay," I say, trying not to feel too disappointed. "It's fine, we'll just plan for another time." With one last goodbye hug from Destiny and another promise from Tina about getting Destiny over to see me again, the three of them leave. I pay for the breakfasts and then head back to my room.

My mind feels heavy with all of the information I've taken in. Last night, especially, is weighing down my thoughts and I can't help but try to puzzle my way through what she told me. The story is so convoluted and tragic that I have a hard time believing that it's even possible. Could it be real that everything that's torn Tina and me apart was just her parents and a lot of unfortunate coincidences? And what does that mean for us?

I'm just letting myself into my room when my phone rings and I answer it with my usual mechanical greeting. In reply, I get a bright and cheery, "Hi, Artie!"

"Oh, hey, Grace," I say, grinning in spite of myself. Everything with Tina over the last two days, (has it really only been two days?) had all but driven Grace from my mind.

"How are you?" she asks conversationally.

"I'm – okay," I say evasively. I can tell instantly that she caught on.

"What happened?" she asks in a worried rush.

"What makes you think something happened?" I ask, buying myself time.

I hear Grace let out a quiet laugh and then she says, "I feel a disturbance in the Force."

Nothing could have prevented me from laughing at that. "Now who's the Star Wars nerd?" I challenge teasingly.

"I never said I wasn't," she says, and I can almost hear her shrugging dismissively. "So something  _did_  happen? How big of a something?"

I hesitate, wondering whether to tell her what's going on in my life. Then I remember how good it felt to be able to confide in her the other day and I take a breath before answering. "A people-coming-back-from-the-dead sort of big."

Grace gasps a little. "Hmm, zombies? I wanna hear, I'll be there in fifteen." She only gives me enough time to reluctantly agree before she hangs up. True to her word, thirteen minutes later there's a knock at my door, and I open it to find Grace, practically bouncing with anticipation. She doesn't waste any time in coming in and making herself comfortable on my couch, and it only takes a little prompting before I spill the entire story to her.

"And now I don't know what on earth I'm supposed to do," I say with a heavy sigh when I've finished. "I mean, I've been in love with her for years, but now that I know that she's been alive all this time it feels different. How can I still love her when she did this to me?" I make a noise of frustration. "I just don't understand how she could do this to me, how she could believe those things her parents said about me. I thought she knew me better than that. I thought she knew that I loved her, and only her. There's no way I could've gotten over her so quickly, but she didn't even give me the benefit of the doubt before disappearing with my daughter."

"Be fair to her, Artie," Grace says reasonably. "She didn't tell you exactly what she went through in that place, did she? Being locked up in places like that is even worse than being stuck in a hospital. Places like that beat it into your brain that you've committed a sin and that you are not worth the blessing of childbirth that you've been given because of your sin. That no man could ever want to be with a woman so buried in sinfulness. Tina had to endure months of hearing that before coming to find you. It's highly likely that in that moment of panic she forgot reality and the fears that had been instilled in her in that place drowned out what her heart knew deep down."

I sigh again, rubbing the heel of my hand against my pounding forehead. "Well yes, maybe, but I sti–" My words catch in my throat, and I lift my head, staring at Grace in surprise and wonder. "How did you know her name was Tina?" I ask breathlessly. "I never told you her name."

Grace's mouth forms a perfect O shape, and her eyes widen for a second. And then she lets out a heavy exhale, with one word embedded in it: " _Busted_."


	13. A Spy on the Inside

I gape at Grace, my reeling brain still trying to wrap around what is happening. Of all the emotions I had planned to face during this conversation, this mind-numbing shock is definitely not one I expected. She is toying with the embellishment on the hem of her jacket, and for the first time since I've met her, she's not meeting my eye.

"You know her, don't you?" I try to sound confident in my question, but it comes out entirely breathless. Grace simply nods. "You've been playing me."

This finally makes Grace look up and her already large eyes are widened in surprise. "What?  _Playing_  you?"

"You've known all along, haven't you? You knew about Tina and me, and you just strung me along and didn't say anything about it," I accuse in frustration.

"What would you have me say, Artie?" Grace shoots back coolly. "Should I have told you over lunch that I knew where the girl you were looking for was? Think honestly on how you'd have reacted if I'd said that the woman you thought was dead was living just a few blocks away."

"But you were steering me towards her the whole time," I conclude, and suddenly everything seems glaringly obvious. How had I not picked up on this before? "You kept telling me how I needed to go to the lounge show, and it was all because of her. You knew I would recognise her there."

Grace nods, completely unashamedly now. "That was my primary intention, yes," she admits. "She was panicking after she saw you in here that first morning, I was afraid she wouldn't have the guts to come looking for you again. So I led you to her instead."

"So you've been setting me up from the beginning," I say. "All of this, it's just been some sort of plot to get Tina and me to meet up again. But you – we went out to lunch together, and the museum, and you were  _flirting_  with me. I thought you…"

"Romance was never an option for us, Artie," Grace says gently. "That was sort of established from the beginning. It's hard to start a relationship when the both of you love someone else, isn't it?"

"I'm not–" I freeze in the middle of my denial when something else clicks into place in my head.  _"Both_ of us?" Grace nods calmly, and I exhale heavily when it comes together. "You're with someone. You've been leading me on, and you're actually with someone else. And he was okay with you taking me out to lunch and all of those things?"

"To be fair, I told you that day it wasn't a date," she points out. "And yes, he knew about it and was okay with it. He actually encouraged it. He cares about Tina and Destiny as much as I do and he wants to make things right for them too."

"Make things right?" I ask with a laugh that even I can tell sounds a little crazy. "How have things been made right? All it's done is make everything more complicated."

"Maybe," Grace agrees idly, "but at the same time, you've both finally gotten some of that closure that you wanted so badly. You told me at the café that more than anything you just wanted to know what had happened. Now you know." I want to argue, but the problem is she's right. I might not be completely satisfied with the answers, but at least now I have some kind of answers. "And you can't deny that you're happy to have this chance with your daughter. I saw that look in your eye when you were talking about her."

I ignore her last comment, although I can't fight the hint of a smile that comes to my face when I think about Destiny. "How do you know her? Tina, I mean. You seem to know her well." The moment Grace goes to answer, my eyes widen because I've finally figured it out. "Oh my God. You're the roommate."

"Oh, she's mentioned me?" Grace asks and her tone is so light and conversational is sort of seems at odds with what we're talking about.

"Never by name, but she's told me she lives with a friend, that you all rotate babysitting and…" My words stop in my throat as I realise what I'm saying. "She said you're engaged, and you have a kid too."

"Good to know she's not slandering me," she says with a smile.

"You have a kid," I repeat in shock.

Grace nods and her expression is amused. "That's been established." She rummages in her purse and then pulls out a photograph, holding it out to me. I take it numbly, staring down at the photographic printing. It's Grace, with the little boy Tanner on her lap and the dark-skinned man from the ballroom behind her with an arm around her shoulders. "His name's Tanner Lee Michaels. He'll be five in eight days."

"And this is that Jake guy," I say, pointing at the man.

"Jacob Karonakis," Grace supplies. "We've been together more than two years, engaged for seven months. And as far as anyone is concerned, he's Tanner's father."

"So you were like her? A teenage mom, I mean."

Grace nods, rolling her tongue between her teeth thoughtfully as she accepts the picture back and tucks it into her purse. "I'm five months younger than Tina, and my son is three months older than Destiny. I found out I was pregnant the week of my seventeenth birthday."

I let out a breath of amazement, trying to think of what that must have been like. At least Tina was almost eighteen when she got pregnant. Grace was still sixteen, just like Quinn had been. Something else that Tina told me about her flatmate resurfaces in my mind. "You went to that place too, didn't you? So that place, it's really real?" I ask tentatively. It's not that I think Tina lied to me about it; I just can't seem to believe that a place like that actually exists.

"You mean St. Agnes'?" she clarifies, and I nod. "Yeah, it's definitely real. It was easier for me to deal with than it was for Tina, though, and there were still days that place made me think that dying had to be a better answer."

The forwardness of this momentarily stuns me, and it takes a second before I can get out the question that I want to ask. "Why was it easier for you?"

"Well, because I went there by my own choice," she says grimly. My surprise must be evident on my face because she smiles as she continues, "I was raised by a foster family along with six other brothers and sisters, half of them special needs. My family couldn't have supported me through a pregnancy, and after all they'd done for me I didn't expect them to. When I found out about St. Agnes', I jumped at the chance. That place was hell, but they kept my baby and me healthy, and that was what mattered most to me."

"What about the father?" I ask before my common sense reminds me that's probably a rude thing to ask.

"My pregnancy, it wasn't like Tina's," Grace says, and for a moment I notice a darkness passing over her face. "As much of a blessing as Tanner is, he wasn't a baby born from love like Destiny is. He came around because of an angry and possessive boyfriend who took advantage and then refused all responsibility when he found out I'd gotten pregnant because of it. I left for California a week and a half after I found out I was pregnant, and he already had a new girlfriend by that time."

"I'm sorry," I say because it seems like the only right thing to say. I can't understand how any guy could do something like that, especially to someone like Grace. Even Puck, Ohio renowned Lima-Loser and Cougar Hunter Extraordinaire, had stepped up and taken responsibility with Quinn, once she'd let him.

"Don't be," she says with a shrug. "It was a bad time, but I came out of it for the better. It helped me learn a lot about myself, I became a better person, and now I have my little boy to keep me on the right track. I consider it something along the lines of a blessing in disguise."

"So this St. Agnes', is it really as bad as Tina said?" I ask, and I find myself holding my breath waiting for an answer. "She said it was like a jail, that you're cut off from the rest of the world. And that all the stories she heard from girls there were darker and harder than hers."

"Harder than hers?" Grace asks with raised eyebrows, seeming genuinely surprised. "Well, that might be a matter of opinion. There were plenty of girls there with stories like mine, girls who were manipulated or taken advantage of. But besides that, I personally think almost all of us had it better off than Tina."

"How so?"

"Being cut off from the outside didn't bother us like it did her," she explains, and her tone has lost all amusement now, her eyes distant and seeing something only she can see. "Girls like me, we didn't mind being shut away somewhere safe. We settled and adjusted and learned to deal. All Tina ever wanted was to get out of there and get back to you. She tried to escape more than once in the first few weeks. She talked to you in her sleep almost every night, sometimes just telling you how much she loved you and how you could have a family together now, and some nights, after her parents called her the one time, she was begging for you to forgive her. I watched the way the light in her eyes faded with every day that passed where she didn't hear from you.

"The stories of how girls got pregnant were all worse than Tina's. Hers, hers was beautiful. But as far as everything following that, I think her story is the hardest and most heartbreaking of them all, by far."

I try to swallow but my throat feels thick, and it takes me a few seconds longer to realise there are tears on my cheeks. I brush them away quickly. I don't want to forgive Tina. She hadn't believed in me, she had thought I would actually leave her for getting pregnant (which is stupid, since that was easily more my fault than hers – we'd never been cautious because I didn't think I  _could_ get her pregnant.) She had underestimated how much I loved her, and I don't want to forgive her for that. But at the same time, hearing this story, hearing the way she'd hurt over me, it's making something in my chest feel really tight.

"Artie, I know this isn't easy for you either," Grace says, reaching out and gripping my forearm comfortingly, "but don't judge Tina too quickly for what she did. She spent months in that place with nothing but her hope and her love for you, and after listening to dozens of stories from girls whose men had deserted them, even the most optimistic person can have doubts. She was young and scared and confused, and she made a mistake that's hurt the both of you more than she could ever imagine was possible."

"I just don't understand how she could have so little faith in me," I say, and I'm embarrassed to hear the desperation in my choked voice. "How could she give up hope that I loved her? I was going to ask her to marry me." My breath shudders a bit at the admission I've never made aloud before. "I'd been saving up money for the ring for months, I'd just bought it two weeks before she vanished. I was going to propose on her birthday."

"I never did believe you'd moved on like that," Grace says confidently. "The way she talked about you, it just seemed such an out of character thing to do. I hoped that when she went back to find you she'd realise that, but that obviously didn't work. I tried to convince her to go back a second time and actually talk to you then, but she said you deserved to be able to stay in your happy new life and she didn't want to ruin that for you." She shakes her head sadly. "She was just so scared of facing rejection."

I let my head fall into my hands, slipping my fingers beneath my glasses to press them against my watering eyes. It takes several minutes of deep breathing before I can manage to speak again. "It just seems so ridiculous that all of this is bad coincidences," I say with a weak laugh that sounds embarrassingly more like a squeak. "If her parents hadn't lied about me, she could have come back without doubting me. If I'd moved with any other friend than the one who had had a small crush on me for a few months, she wouldn't have thought I'd moved on. Or if I hadn't fallen asleep while texting her that night she found out she was pregnant, I would have called her to see what was up and known about it before she disappeared."

"Bad coincidences and bad parenting," Grace says with a dull chuckle. I feel her fingertips beneath my chin, and I grudgingly let her tilt my head up until I'm facing her again. "But do you remember what I told you the other day? This place, it's all about second chances."

A disbelieving laugh escapes me. "Second chances?" I echo. "At what? What we had back in high school? God, Grace, I can't even think about getting into that right now, if ever. We've got more important things to deal with. Like Destiny. We've got to figure out how to work things out with her. And besides, it's been five years. We've both changed too much, it won't be the same."

"I wasn't talking about being in love again, Artie," she says, and this time she's smiling. "Although it's very clear both of you do still love each other somehow. Take baby steps, Romeo. Start by just trying to be friends again. Five years ago, she was just as much your best friend as she was everything else. Maybe if you guys work at it, you can clear the air and find a way to get back to being those friends again."

"This is insane." I pull off my glasses and rub at my eyes, trying to ease the headache. "I have five days to figure out what I'm going to do about the daughter that lives on the other side of the country. I don't really have time to worry about my relationship with her mother at the moment."

Grace is trying to muffle a laugh, I can hear it in her voice. "Logically speaking, establishing an easier friendship with her mother will make figuring out what to do about Destiny easier too," she points out. I make a non-committal noise without looking up. "I know you both, and I have faith that as long as you're willing to try, you can work things out."

"You do know your mystery is blown now, right?" I ask in amusement, and when I replace my glasses and look up at her, she looks confused. "The whole, 'I can read a person's entire life story in their face' vibe. You've blown it. You knew all those things about me beforehand, didn't you?"

"Oh that. Yes, most of them," she admits with a smile. "But in my defence, I only commented on the ones I actually could pick out by watching you. I figured it would be difficult to explain away how I know your middle name is your father's name, or that you have a ridiculous penchant for Oreo cookies."

"Yeah, that is definitely creepy," I agree. "How long have you known who I was? Since we started talking on the plane?"

"Since I saw you getting on the plane in Chicago," she answers, and I blink in surprise, muttering "wow" under my breath. "I recognised you," she continues and starts rummaging through her purse again. Finally, she pulls out a folded piece of paper and hands it to me. "I've seen your face a lot."

I frown in confusion as I unfold the paper she's handed me. It takes me a second to process what I'm looking at, and once I do, I feel something strange twisting up in my chest. The paper is a greyscale pencil sketch, the lines blurred with time and the creases distorting some of the details. Except nothing hides the familiarity of the face.

"What is this?"

"It's you," Grace says. "One of what must be the dozens of them I've drawn over the years. It started when we were at St. Agnes'. Tina saw me drawing and asked me if I could draw someone if she described him, and I told her I could give it a shot. I've never heard someone give such a detailed description of another person's face, most people can't even describe themselves as clearly as she described you.

"After we both had left St. Agnes', she stopped asking for them, but I didn't stop drawing them. I would listen to the stories she told Destiny about you and draw them out. There was something hauntingly hypnotic in how she could recall every detail of your face and your every expression and I was, admittedly, a little bit obsessed with it. It would have been impossible for me to  _not_ recognise you when I saw you at the airport."

"What do you do with all of them?" I ask, running my fingers over the lines on the page. I can't deny the sketch is frighteningly accurate for someone who'd never seen me before. Hell, it's frighteningly accurate for someone who  _had_.

"Destiny has most of the best ones," she says, and this manages to pull my eyes up from the sketch. "I started drawing them for her within the last year, I've done several of you and her together, the way I saw it in my mind. She's put them together like a sort of scrapbook. Tina has all of the ones I drew for her, she keeps them in a box in her dresser drawer. I think they're sort of her memorabilia. She doesn't have any photographs because her parents threw them all out with her other things, so the sketches are sort of a substitute. The rest of the ones I have are stowed away in the back of my portfolio."

I stare down at the nearly perfect drawing of myself on the paper and then look up at Grace again. "Your obsession with me is very creepy," I say, handing the paper back to her. She smiles as she folds it and slips it into her bag again.

"Yes, well, we all have our issues," she says jokingly. She surveys my face for a moment, her expression concentrated, and then smiles again. "You going to be okay?"

"I hope so," I say with a sigh. "This is still a lot to deal with. I honestly don't know what to do."

"You'll figure it out," she says confidently. Then she seizes my wrist and turns my arm so she can look at my watch. "But my lunch break is nearly over, so I've got to get back to work."

"You were at work?" I ask in surprise.

She just nods unconcernedly. "And once I'm through with this meeting I'm free to go home and get the kids ready to go out tonight," she says and seems genuinely excited by the prospect. "Jake and I are taking them to see the new Disney movie. Poor Tina has to miss out on it. She'll be here, doing another long night of shows." She gives me a very pointed look at this, and I have the sincere feeling that I'm being given a veiled order.

"Don't have too much fun," I say, trying to hide my discomfort. Grace seems content to let me keep pretending to be oblivious to her hinting as she stands up.

"You too," she answers and bends to give me a hug. I'm surprised when she kisses my cheek before pulling back. "Remember, Artie: City of miracles." And with that last statement, she gathers her bag and walks straight out of the room.


	14. Coffee Talk

I anxiously twitch my wrists forward and back, causing my chair to roll a few inches in either direction. My version of pacing. The hallway is empty and almost completely silent, so I'm left to be a frantic mess in peace. I'm not quite sure what I'm doing here, but now that I am, I can't seem to make myself either go forward or turn around and just go back. Which is why I'm pacing at the end of the hallway, trying to get up the nerve to do something more.

After Grace had left earlier, I had showered and then collapsed on my bed. It had been a thoroughly exhausting few days, and it wasn't long before my recent lack of sleep caught up with me. It was well past dinnertime by the time I woke up.

I roll forward a few inches and stop. The door at the end of the hall is standing open, and I can barely hear the sounds coming from beyond it. What am I doing here? This is ridiculous. The last five years are flashing through my brain, and I tighten my hands around my wheels reflexively.

I roll back to where I started and then freeze. This weekend is weighing heavily on my mind, and I hesitate. I can't seem to get what Grace said out of my head, and it's affecting me a lot more than I would like it to. She tried to make things sound so simple, so cut-and-dry, but they aren't. Are they?

Then I think of Destiny and I set my jaw, rolling forward again. This time I don't falter until I reach the doorway at the end of the hall and I can finally hear the sounds from inside the room. Oh God, maybe I can't do this.

I have to, though. I have less than five days left in this city, and that's not nearly enough time to get everything sorted out. I can't afford to be a wimp. Taking a reassuring breath that doesn't feel quite like it reaches my brain, I move into the room for the second time in my life.

The ballroom looks just like it did when I came in two nights ago, only it's much more densely populated. I park next to a table in the back again, and the two other occupants of the table turn to cast curious glances at me before facing the stage again. She's already out on it, belting out a jazzy showtune with that same short guy in the tux.

I feel a soft smile settle on my face as I watch her. She has that same blindingly bright smile that she's always worn while performing, the one that crinkles up her eyes and her nose. I notice it looks a lot like the one she has on when she's around Destiny, except maybe less brilliant. That's something I can relate to; Destiny has that effect on me, too.

This time, since I'm not in complete shock, I can actually just listen to her performing. Her voice sounds almost exactly the way I remember it from our years of singing together. Smooth, rich, natural. I always loved her voice more than any of our other friends', and not just because of my best-friend-obligatory bias. Rachel and Mercedes, their voices tended to throw the notes at you with force and strength. Tina's voice is a softer power, the higher and harder notes still filled with as much strength but less of the attack. I have to fight back my instinctual reaction to sing along with her.

I don't feel really nervous again until the show ends and the audience starts to trickle out, reminding me why I'm here in the first place. For a moment, I'm tempted to slip in with the disappearing crowd and just go back to my room and pretend I was never here. And then my conscience, which for some inexplicable reason has always sounded like my little sister, calls me a coward. I immediately pull my hands off my wheels and fold them in my lap.

It's echoingly loud in the ballroom when the last of the audience members leaves. I release my brakes and roll up toward the stage, trying not to think about how I did this exact same thing the night before last. It feels like I've been sitting here forever, although a glance at my watch says it's been three minutes, before the off-stage door opens. Tuxedo Man walks out and then turns to hold the door as Tina follows him out.

"Don't forget to work on your breath control," the man says as he lets the door swing shut behind her. "We need to have that new number ready to rotate in by the end of the month." I can't see Tina's reaction since her back is to me, but I fidget awkwardly when the man's eyes flick past her to fix on me, and I can see the recognition in his gaze. "Oh look, Tina, your fan is back."

Tina spins on her heel, a look of confusion on her face before she finds me. I wave tentatively and she smiles. The knots in my shoulders relax just slightly at that. "Oh, hi," she says a bit breathlessly. The man nudges her with his elbow, and she seems to startle. "Oh right, sorry. Artie, this is Jeffrey Haskell, my singing partner. Jeff, this is Artie Abrams, my – um, well – he's Destiny's father."

"Is that so?" Jeffrey's eyes widen almost comically. "Well then, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

I bite back a laugh because I'm picking up on similarities with someone else that are making it hard not to be amused. "You too," I say, carefully restraining my humour. "That was a really great show. I haven't heard anyone belt like that in a long time, and your range is incredible."

"Thank you. Your appreciation of my vocal prowess is greatly rewarding," Jeffrey replies with an almost unnaturally bright smile. "Well, as enjoyable as this has been, I must make my leave. I have other prior engagements that demand my attention. Good evening, to the both of you." He kisses Tina on both cheeks, shakes my hand, and then leaves. I watch him go, and the moment he's vanished beyond the doors, I let out a snort of laughter.

"Oh my god, that man is Rachel Berry if she was a  _he_ ," I say, my voice choked as I try not to double over laughing.

Tina smiles, biting down on her lip. "That's what I thought when I first met him too," she agrees. "Believe it or not, that was relaxed for him. He's usually more intense than that." She shakes her head as I finally manage to regulate my laughter again. "So, what are you doing here?"

"Well I thought that – I mean, I don't want to sound like I'm presuming anything, but it's just–" I pause, taking a steadying breath and starting over. "I know you have the night free since your flatmates have the kids, so I thought maybe we could, you know, talk some more." I wince. "That sounded kind of stupid, didn't it?"

"No, it's fine," Tina says quickly. "We really do need to talk. Get things straightened out. For Destiny, I mean."

"Exactly," I say, sighing in relief. "For Destiny."

Tina smiles. "Just let me change, and then maybe we can go get a coffee?" she offers, and when I nod, she excuses herself and slips back through the stage door. I sit in the empty ballroom, drumming out a beat against my armrest anxiously while I wait. A glance at my watch tells me that my sleeping schedule is going to be so far out of whack by the time I get home, it'll be a miracle if I don't become nocturnal. Going out for coffee at midnight. I smirk at the very idea.

The door opening makes me look up from my thorough examination of my gloves, and Tina smiles shyly as she closes the door behind her again. In place of her dress, she's now wearing the same dark jeans and navy blue top from this morning, underneath an overly large black jacket. I can't stop my smile when I see three large safety pins attached to the edge of the jacket's pocket.

"I'm not all about maid's outfits and formal wear, you know," she says teasingly when she notices me watching.

"No, I know, I saw that this morning," I agree with a laugh. "It's just – strange. Déjà vu strange."

She seems to accept that answer, and she crosses the distance to me in a few quick steps. "There's a nice little coffee shop just two buildings down from here that's open all night," she says and gestures for me to follow her. I hastily spin my chair around to face the doors and fall in beside her. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice how she slows her pace to match mine, her eyes still focused forward like she doesn't even realise what she's doing. Apparently, some skills don't vanish with disuse. Like what they say about riding a bike, I suppose.

Several people throw out farewells to her as we move across the hotel lobby, and she smiles back at them all and returns them. I watch her in amazement. Even after her three years in Glee, Tina had never fully grown out of being an introvert. Now, five years later, she seems almost comfortable with addressing people. I nearly laugh at the realisation that while she's become better at socialising, I've been gradually getting worse. How's that for irony?

It's only lightly misting outside, so Tina pulls up her hood and we quicken our pace. The coffee shop she mentioned is nearly deserted at this hour, but the barista grins at her as she comes in and asks if she wants the usual. She agrees, I order my drink, and once we have them both, we settle down at a table near the window. "So you drink coffee now?" I ask curiously, glancing over as she blows softly on the hot drink.

"With a schedule like mine on top of keeping a handle on that wild child, I need to get the energy somewhere," she says with a laugh before taking a sip.

"You know, I didn't ever expect you to become a singer," I admit as I stir the sugar into my coffee. "Not that you aren't talented enough, it's just you always said it wasn't what you wanted to do with your life."

"I sort of fell into it," she says with a twisted smile. "I've only been singing there for just over a year now. I've been a maid at the hotel basically since I moved here, and when they decided to add a show to the hotel, I asked if I could do it. Honestly, it was only because it pays fairly well." She shrugs self-consciously. "Otherwise I don't know if I could handle putting up with Jeff. He's extremely…"

"Abrasive?" I offer when she looks stumped.

"Yeah, that works," she says with a nod. "I miss singing with people who know how to do a proper duet. He's perfect for solos, but he tends to overpower in a duet. Now I know how Finn felt." I smile into my cup. "How is everyone? I mean, if you know."

"Most of us keep in touch," I say, and I feel guilty when I see her flinch slightly. I didn't mean it as an accusation, but apparently she can tell the thought was at least in my mind. Trying to ease the moment, I clear my throat and then launch into telling her about where all of our former teammates are at.

"Wow, Holly's seven now?" Tina asks in amazement.

"And more and more a Puckerman every day," I conclude with a laugh. "With a mouth that runs a mile-a-minute and enough energy that she could run like that too. I tell you, offering to babysit her was the most dangerous mistake of my life."

Tina laughs appreciatively, but there's a thoughtful look in her eye as she stares into her coffee. "So that means Lizzie is – seventeen?"

"Unfortunately," I say, and heave a dramatic sigh for emphasis. "She'll be a senior in the fall."

She breathes out another "Wow," and turns her attention to her coffee for a moment. "How is she?" she asks abruptly, making me look up curiously. There's something guarded in her gaze, and she won't really meet my eyes.

"Liz? She was doing good when I talked to her the other night," I say with a shrug. "Same old Lizzie, causing tonnes of trouble and making people love her for it." Tina smiles fondly at the remark and the set of her shoulders eases just slightly.

"I've missed her," Tina admits in a distracted voice like she's not actually paying attention to what she's saying.

"She misses you," I reply, ignoring the twist in my stomach at the words. This seems to knock Tina out of her fantasy world, and she blinks several times and looks down at her hands on the table.

"Oh God, Artie." Her breathless gasp startles me, and I watch the curtain of her hair curiously since that's all I can see of her. "I didn't even think – what about your family? How do we – how do  _I_  tell them?"

I open my mouth to answer before the truth of her question sinks in. How _do_ we tell my family? All of them loved Tina nearly as much as I did, and just like me, they've spent all this time thinking she was dead. How will they react when they find out the truth? "I don't know," I admit finally, because for once in my life there are absolutely no snappy comebacks or brilliant insights jumping up in my brain. "Let's – uh, let's just take this one step at a time. Baby steps, walk before running, all that jazz."

There's the slightest smirk on Tina's face, and it only takes me a second to figure out why. "You still do that," she says, and I shrug noncommittally, trying not to smile as well. "Purposefully use every one of those kinds of clichés you can think of."

"Old habits die hard," I say by way of an answer. "It throws people off their game when the paraplegic makes that many comments about walking. I like having the advantage." I pause, glancing across at her, and then finish, "You used to think it was hilarious."

"Oh I still do," she assures me with a smile, but her eyes are more serious. Her voice is slower and more deliberate as she starts up again. "Strange, how after all this time we can be so different but so much the same."

I regard her for a second, thinking this observation over, before deciding that the conversation is getting way too deep for my tastes. "Wow, parenthood has made you all philosophical," I say, and I'm relieved when she laughs again.

"I wouldn't call it that," she says off-handedly. "It's just, I've been thinking. It seems like everything that came between us was by chance. What if those things hadn't happened? Would we still be together? Or be the type of people we are today?"

"I don't know," I say again, plainly, "and we never will know unless one of us is suddenly visited by The Ghost of Christmas Past, so there's nothing to be gained fussing about it, really." Definitely not telling her I've been thinking the same things all day. She gives an appreciative half-smile at the joke, gaze still distant. "Right now, I just want us to find a way to be friends so we can figure out what we're going to do for Destiny."

This seems to stir Tina back from her musing. "Right, of course," she agrees. "For Destiny." She smiles playfully and lifts her cup towards me. I stare at her for a second, trying to figure out if she's serious, and then raise my own cup.

"For Destiny," I echo and we toast to our daughter.

Meanwhile, that haunting voice in the back of my head points out, even if I don't fully comprehend the significance in the semantics, that this is the first time I've thought of her as  _our_  daughter.


	15. Awkwardly Natural

As our conversation continues, it gets exceedingly more difficult to say anything that doesn't make things awkward. It seems like everything we say is laced with some sort of double meaning or hidden allusion to our past. And even though things are always tense and uncomfortable already, neither of us is doing much good at steering things toward the topics we really need to be talking about.

"So what kind of work did you say you were doing here?" Tina asks when we're both starting on our second coffees.

"Public relations meetings," I explain while rummaging through the little bowl at the edge of the table for a sugar packet amidst all the artificial stuff. "Convincing other companies to sign contracts with us, marketing our product to potential clients. That sort of thing."

"That's a good sort of work for you," she says thoughtfully. "Getting people to listen to you and trust what you're saying. You always were easy to trust."

And there's another one of those allusions. I clear my throat and busy myself with my coffee, while across the table I hear Tina fumbling with her spoon as she stirs her drink. We sit in an uneasy quiet for a moment as the both of us try to think of something different to talk about.

"We aren't accomplishing much," Tina remarks quietly, and I have to laugh.

"Not really, no," I agree and glance up at her on the other side of the table. "Sorry, it's still weird for me to see you there and it not being a hallucination. I'm still sort of used to you being dead."

Tina gives a little, closed lip smile like she does when trying to fight it back. "And I'm not so used to the idea of being dead," she replies slyly, making me laugh again.

"Yeah, sorry again, that came out weird, didn't it?" I ask rhetorically, shaking my head. "Not that I'm not relieved you're not, you know,  _dead_ ," I add quickly, and she laughs under her breath. "It's just taking some getting used to."

"Well I didn't exactly expect to be sitting here talking to you either, Artie," she points out, and I nod in understanding, even if the thought sends a previously dormant spark of bitterness through me. "So, did you ever actually hook up with Brittany? Not right away," she adds hastily when I look up at her, "I just meant at any point. It has been a while."

I shake my head. "No. I love Brittany, but she's sort of like that dopey cousin who's kind of insane but at least manages to make family reunions enjoyable," I say, and Tina snorts into her coffee at the comparison.

"Oh, so you mean she's like Austin and Kimberly?" she asks.

"You remember them?" I ask in surprise. I haven't even spoken to those particular twin cousins since the family reunion last summer, but they do have a knack for spicing things up. Tina had only met them twice; once when she went to a family reunion with me the summer before our senior year and once when she'd joined our family for a Christmas party.

"It's sort of hard to forget when two twenty-year-olds show up at the reunion in neon orange spandex suits and wind up leading all of the little kids in an overly-enthusiastic rendition of – Three Blind Mice, was it?"

"That's nothing," I say with a grin. "Two years ago at Christmas, after dinner, they burst in wearing grass skirts and coconut bras, jumped up on the table, and performed a really tacky hula dance while singing Let It Snow." Tina's eyes widen in surprise, and then we both dissolve into laughter. Through the tears in my own eyes, I can see that hers are lit and her cheeks are flushed with amusement, and the sound of her bright laughter is comforting and familiar. This feels  _normal_. And then I remember where I am, who I'm with, and why, and all of a sudden my smile flickers.

"But anyway, off that tangent," I say when I can speak without being interrupted by my own laughter. "To answer your question, no, nothing ever happened between me and Brittany."

Tina's smile has faded down into a set line at the change in topic, and she nods. "I'm sorry," she says abruptly, making me scrutinise her face closer in an attempt to figure out what I've missed.

"That nothing happened between me and Brit?" I ask in confusion.

She glances up at me and smiles, but after she shakes her head the smile is gone again. "No, I'm sorry that I thought something had," she confesses in a voice so quiet I have to lean forward on the table to hear her even though the coffee shop is almost silent. "I – I don't know why – it just seemed like the only logical answer, except there was no logic and–" She trails off with a noise of frustration and props her elbow on the tabletop so she can drop her forehead into her palm.

"That place, it was really that bad, wasn't it?" I ask just as quietly, and I can visibly see her body tensing. "They kept you locked up and isolated and told you that you were sinning by having a baby and telling you all those stories about the girls who were deserted by their boyfriends. All that stuff is true, isn't it?"

"How did you know that?" Tina asks suspiciously, although she doesn't lift her head and her voice sounds unnaturally thick.

I hesitate for a second before answering. "Grace told me."

Tina's head shoots up, and she fixes her red-rimmed eyes on me. "You know Grace?"

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, I laugh. "I'm glad to know I wasn't the only one she was pulling the ninja trick on," I admit. "We met on the plane here. She's the one who recommended your show, that's why I came the other night." I pause and then finish with a wry grin, "You should beware; your flatmates are all conspiring against you."

"Apparently," she agrees with a disbelieving laugh. "That actually does sound like something Grace would do, too. She's younger than me, but she tries to act like my protective big sister, trying to steer me in the right direction and do whatever she can to help me." She smiles faintly. "She's been a saviour with all of this, but that doesn't change the fact that she's annoying sometimes."

"She's definitely an interesting person," I say with a shrug. I wait a minute to let Tina finish processing this fact before returning to our previous topic. "She was right, though, wasn't she, about that place?"

Instantly, any trace of humour on Tina's face disappears. She stares down at the tabletop and is quiet for so long that I almost give up on her answering. "High school seemed like a breeze after that place," she whispers, her tone dark. "All the slushies and dumpsters and the insults and rumours – it had nothing on what they do to you there." When she looks up to meet my wide-eyed gaze, she shakes her head. "No, they don't beat you around or anything. It's nothing physical. They just – they don't have anything nice to say about you. Sort of makes you wish they'd just taken a swing at you occasionally instead."

She sighs and traces her finger around the rim of her cup. "It's like deep down you know the truth, but they tell you those bad things so many times and with so much conviction that you start to believe them anyway. I tried not to let what they said get to me, I really did, but after a while, it just got too hard to tell the difference between which memories were real and which were fantasies I had created to get through the day." She takes a shuddery breath and lowers her head, hiding in her hair again. "Can we not talk about this right now?"

"What? Oh, right, yeah, sorry," I say in a rush once the reality sinks in. Of course, this would be hard for her to talk about. It's like asking me to describe the accident, which is still, fifteen years later, difficult to actually talk about. I clear my throat and pick anxiously at my gloves. "Sorry," I say again. "I wasn't thinking, I was just–" I trail off, waving a hand in a weird little gesture that I somehow hope can convey the missing words.

Tina laughs quietly from behind the shield of her hair. "It's okay, I understand." She swipes her hands beneath her eyes and then lifts her head, offering a hesitant half-smile. "Same old Artie, always wants to have all the answers."

I shift awkwardly but try not to smile. "I'm not sure whether that was a compliment or an insult," I say wryly.

She gives a muted laugh. "Just an observation," she answers. We lapse into a semi-comfortable quiet, and I take the time to get my brain geared back towards what we're supposed to be discussing. "We really do need to talk about Destiny," Tina says quietly, directly mirroring my thoughts. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know," I say with a sigh. It's sort of humiliating to think about how many times I've said that recently. Apparently there are a lot of things that I don't know anymore. "All I know is I want to be involved," I say resolutely.

"I want that too," Tina agrees, and I'm surprised to hear she sounds just as determined in that fact as I am. "You're her father, and she needs you. There is no question to that." Her expression settles into a soft smile, and she adds, "She really loves you, you know? You should've heard the way she was going on about you this morning."

A familiar warmth spreads across my cheeks, and I smile sheepishly. "Telling you how atrocious my singing is now?" I ask with a laugh.

Tina laughs as well. "National award winning singers don't sound atrocious," she responds. I look up at her in confusion and this time she's the one who turns red. "Your solo at Nationals senior year, you got an honourable mention for it."

"How'd y–"

"I Googled you," she confesses nervously. I stare at her in surprise. "I wanted to know how the club had done. The article mentioned your solo."

"A last minute replacement for a missing duet," I say, but beneath my humour, my brain is whirring. After Tina had gone missing, we'd had to axe our duet, and since we still needed a ballad to perform, I had offered up a solo I'd been working on. It was a song for her. I can still remember the line in the article from the Lima paper, talking about how 'although the team's performance was slightly sub-par due to missing members, it was the soloist, McKinley High senior Arthur Abrams, and his emotionally charged performance that stole the show and left the audience in tears.' It was the pinnacle of my musical career, the performance that had first gotten the interest of the company I now work for, and I try to think about it as little as possible.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up," she says quickly, sensing my change in demeanour. "We're getting off track again."

"Right, back on track," I say with a nod. "So how are we going to do this? I'll admit, I don't know anything about custody deals and that sort of thing."

"Neither do I," Tina says, and with a sigh, she leans back in her seat. "But it should be easier for us to work this out, right? Because we can cooperate together, and because we both know we're doing this for Destiny."

"Yeah, exactly." Well, at least we agree on things, even if they aren't really getting us anywhere closer to a conclusion. I tap my fingers against the tabletop in a broken rhythm, trying to think of some sort of solution. All of the plans I've been considering seem impractical and taxing. I make a noise of frustration and flatten my hand against the table.

"I can't think of anything that won't be too hard on her," I say in defeat. "No matter what, she's still going to have to shift back and forth from homes. We couldn't do it any short length of time, that would be a nightmare for her. If we traded off every few months it would be easier, but that will only work until she starts school. Is that this year or next?"

"Next," she answers. "Her birthday is a week too late to start this year."

"And we can't shift her around once she's started school," I continue. "I don't want her to have to change schools so much."

"Definitely not," Tina agrees immediately. "Changing schools is hard enough once, let alone having to do it often."

For a moment, I had forgotten that she had to change schools when we were younger. I am so used to her being a part of my school memories that sometimes I forget she wasn't always there. That makes me blush again, and I clear my throat in discomfort. My thoughts are straying far too far into familiar companionship again for my liking.

"I suppose there is always the holidays option," she offers. "Staying with one parent for the school year and the other on summer and holiday breaks. People do that, don't they?"

"I think so, but I'm not fond of the idea," I say with a grimace. "If that's what it comes to then only one of us will get to be with her on holidays, and that doesn't seem fair."

"No, but it's the best option we've got so far." She exhales heavily and slumps in her chair. I watch as she lifts a hand to cover her mouth, but I can tell by the way her eyes wrinkle up that she's trying to hide a yawn. I laugh quietly at her until that stupid contagious yawning thing catches up with me and I'm yawning too. When I'm finished, she's laughing too.

Smiling, I say, "Clearly it's getting a little too late for us to be thinking straight anymore." I glance at the clock above the barista's counter and see that it's just after three. Even later than we were awake last night. "Maybe we should call it a night and try again after we've both gotten some much-needed sleep."

Tina is nodding her agreement, and she rummages in her purse for a moment. When she withdraws a permanent marker, I almost laugh at the familiarity. She's never been without a Sharpie since she fell in love with them in the eighth grade. Apparently, she hears my stifled laugh because she glances up at me through her lashes and smirks before going back to what she was doing. She grabs a napkin from the dispenser by her elbow and quickly scribbles on it, passing it across to me.

"That's my number," she says, capping the marker and jamming it back into her bag. "Call me when you want to get together again and finish this."

I nod, taking the napkin and folding it before tucking it carefully into my pocket. Then I dig out my wallet and retrieve another business card, sliding it over to her. "The number on the bottom," I say, and she nods as she sticks it in her bag. I place a few bills on the table to cover our drinks, and then we both move away from the table.

At the door we hesitate, turning to face each other. "Well, guess this is goodnight," she says, bouncing on the balls of her feet just like she used to.

"Yeah, goodnight," I say. Tina seems to be battling with herself, and then before I can react, she bends down and wraps her arms around me. Surprised, I return the embrace out of instinct. Her hair against my cheek still smells like the same old jasmine scent, and even though there is definitely something different about the hug, she still fits into my arms so perfectly.

Too quickly and not soon enough, Tina draws back. There's a bright flush on her cheeks, and she murmurs a quick, "Goodnight Artie," before she turns and hurries out of the coffee shop. For a moment I only stare after her, and then I shake myself back to reality and leave as well.

Back in my hotel room, I lay down on my bed and stare up at the ceiling once more. This shouldn't be happening. And yet no matter how much I try to convince myself I didn't feel something in my stomach leap, it doesn't change the fact that my pulse is still racing slightly. It doesn't matter if it felt just like it used to once upon a time because this isn't once upon a time anymore. No, this isn't happening. I refuse to go through that again. Not like this.

Groaning, I turn off the lights and let myself drift off. It annoys me but doesn't surprise me when I dream of her.  _Again_.


	16. Room With a View

I grumble when I feel myself waking up but, despite all of my attempts to go back to sleep, I end up wide awake instead. With another grunt of protest, I reach over and grab my phone off the bedside table. It's almost half past noon. I idly think that having to get up tomorrow at seven is going to completely throw me out of whack.

Resigning myself to getting up, I start to get cleaned up and dressed. I don't really have plans to do anything, since I've slept through any possibility of attending church and I've already finished all of the work I need to have prepared for the rest of my meetings. Instead, I take extra time in the shower to gather my thoughts.

What happened last night? It was so bizarre. We were talking, and things were predictably awkward and uncomfortable. That was only to be expected, though, considering the situation. And then things would feel almost  _normal_  again like nothing had ever happened. We would be laughing together about some joke, and it made me feel just like that person I used to be back in high school. Before, of course, instantly switching right back to being insanely awkward.

Have I really changed that much in five years that who I was then and who I am now are two entirely different people? I don't really feel that different. A little more mature, maybe, and a bit more practical. I wouldn't say that I'm cynical, but I'm definitely more realistic. Happy endings don't just blossom out of the ground like I might have thought they did in high school. Of course, back then it had seemed like my happy ending  _had_  bloomed out of nowhere, in the form of that artistic, expressionist new girl in my maths class. It had seemed like happily ever after was in store after that until of course her parents decided to intervene.

My hand tightens around the washcloth at the thought of her parents. What right did they have to ruin the both of us like that? It wasn't their call what Tina did with her baby, and especially not to keep me out of it. If they had told me that's where she'd gone, I would have gone after her. I'm not sure of a lot of things, but that much I know. I remember the way it felt that day when I found out she was gone, and that feeling alone would've driven me to the ends of the world to get her back if I'd just known which direction to go.

And then, after all this time, she's in my life again. It seems like some twisted sort of fate that just when I reach the point in my life where I'm ready to move on and get over her for good, she ends up showing up and she's once again an irremovable piece of my life. No matter whether we wind up hardly speaking anymore, we have a link that'll keep up connected to each other. Our daughter. Our Destiny. I smirk a little as I realise again that that name is just way too ironic.

The water is beginning to cool, so I quickly finish showering and get out. Once I'm dried and dressed, I venture out into the dining room to grab a quick lunch. I'm just finishing my salad when my phone rings and I pull it out, this time actually taking the time to check the caller ID before answering. The number isn't one that's saved into my phone, but it looks vaguely familiar, so I'm sure I've seen it before.

"Arthur Abrams," I say when I put it to my ear, just in case it's a business number.

"Hi Artie, it's Tina," is the answer. As if I hadn't been able to tell the moment she started talking. That explains why the number looks familiar; it's the one scrawled on the napkin that's sitting on my bedside table. "I'm sorry to bother you, I hope you weren't still sleeping."

"No, it's fine," I say, fighting back a smile at the thought I would still be asleep since it's just past two o'clock. "What did you need?"

Tina makes a funny little embarrassed noise and is quiet for a second. "Well Grace, Jake and I are taking the kids out sightseeing a bit today, and well, Destiny wanted me to – I mean, not that I don't–" This time the sound she makes is frustrated, and I smile as I hear her taking a deep breath. "Would you like to come with?"

I hesitate in answering. Would I like to go out and spend the afternoon with my ex and my daughter alongside the happy little family that she lives with? Honestly, it sounds incredibly awkward, and I can tell that's what Tina's thinking too. Before I can answer, though, I hear a high-pitched, "Pleeeease" whined from the background on the phone and I laugh.

"She really wants you to come," Tina explains, and I can hear the amusement in her voice.

It only takes a minute's more deliberation, and three more elongated pleases from Destiny, before I say, "Yeah, okay, it sounds like fun."

After finishing my lunch, I roll out of the hotel to wait beneath the awning. I tap my fingers against my armrest anxiously as I watch the street, trying to keep myself from getting nervous. It'll be an incredibly awkward afternoon, no doubt, but I have to remind myself that I'm doing it for Destiny. I have to prove that I can stop this mess between Tina and me from making our little girl's life any harder.

I look up when a dark green minivan pulls up against the pavement. A second later the side door opens, and Tina clambers out, with as little grace as the days when she used to wear knee-length combat boots, straightening up to wave at me. Grinning, I roll over to the van. "Funny, I never figured you for a soccer mom," I joke, giving the van an appraising look.

"Nice try, it's Jake's," she says with a smirk. "I don't actually own a car. The three of us share Grace's car and the van." I nod in understanding, but I can't help but wonder how they work that out, with all three of them cycling vehicles while they work different jobs. Tina jerks me out of these thoughts when she points into the front row of seats and the empty spot beside Destiny's carseat. "Can you get into there? Grace said she'll move back if the front seat is easier."

"I can handle it," I say, waving a dismissive hand. "I can get myself into Noah's truck now, I think I can work just about anything."

Tina laughs quietly. "When did he start going by Noah?" she asks curiously.

I grin up at her. "He doesn't, I just do it because it annoys him and he's grown out of his habit of beating me up," I admit and she laughs again. Locking my brakes, I heave myself from my chair to the floor of the van and then drag myself up onto the seat. "Hey princess," I say to Destiny as I buckle myself in.

"Hi Daddy," she says excitedly, leaning over and pressing a wet kiss to my cheek. Tina has folded my chair into the trunk, and she climbs back into the van, slipping past me to sit down in the vacant seat in the back beside Tanner's carseat.

"Everyone ready to go?" Grace asks, twisting around from the passenger seat to look back at us all. "Hi Artie," she adds with a smile.

"Hi Obi-Wan," I reply, making her laugh as she turns back to nod to the dark-skinned man, her fiancé Jake, in the driver's seat.

As Jake eases the van back onto the road, I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see Tina leaning forward. She smiles and in 'll be all right voice says, "So somehow our daughter found out my feet are ticklish. Thanks for that. Now I'm afraid to take my shoes off at home."

I grin and whisper back, "I could have told her that the backs of your knees are ticklish too, then you'd have no chance." Tina laughs and slides back in her seat, and a second later, Destiny is telling me all about the movie that they went to see last night. She's just rambling her way through the climax of the movie, her Rs disappearing beneath her excitement, when the van pulls to a stop.

Tina unbuckles Grace's son and helps him out of the van in front of her. As she moves around to get my chair from the back, I unbuckle Destiny and lift her across my lap, settling her down in the open space inside the door. Grace takes her hand as she jumps down and out of the way, and a moment later Tina sets my chair beside the opened door. I watch as she aligns it just the right way, leaning down to secure the brakes before stepping back.

Ignoring the urge to comment on her perfect memory of how to do that, I get myself down and into the chair. I unlock the brakes to roll back just slightly and position my legs on the rests before moving away from the van entirely. Destiny is bouncing along beside me, determinedly trying to finish telling me about the movie before I can get distracted by anything else.

Once everyone is set, we all turn to head where we're going. The moment I spin around to face it, I freeze. Of all the places we had to come…

The Space Needle.

"Artie, you okay?" I blink out of my reverie and look over at Tina, who is hesitating beside me and looks concerned.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," I lie quickly, but no matter how I try to act calm, when I nod my head feels jerky, and I've had a death grip on my wheels that's left my knuckles bleached.

"Are you sure, you look a little…" She trails off as she glances from me to the over six-hundred feet of building in front of us. Suddenly she gasps, and one of her hands flies up to cover her mouth. "Oh God, Artie, I didn't even think about it," she says breathlessly. "I'm so sorry."

"No, really, I'll be all right," I say, trying to convince myself as much as everyone else. "Besides, I already needed to brave it anyway. Lizzie dared me, and I can't lose to her again." She still looks nervous, so I put on a smile and ease my grip enough that I can roll my chair forward a few inches.

"Are you sure?" she asks.

Despite myself, I laugh at her anxiousness. "Yes, I'm sure," I answer. "What happened to me being someone easily trusted?" Even though her eyes are still cautious, she smiles. "Now let's go before I change my mind." Without waiting for a response, I start forward slowly, and Destiny doesn't even seem fazed by the conversation that took place as she hops along next to me. A few seconds later, I hear everyone else start walking too, and I swallow down a sigh of relief. I'm afraid that if someone had offered a cop-out, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from taking it.

The crowd around the lobby is thin, which is nice because it prevents me from running over anyone's toes. There's a little bit of a wait in the ticket line and I use it to look around at our group. Grace and Jake have their hands intertwined, and Tanner is slung over Jake's back with his arms wrapped securely around his neck. At first glance, it almost does look like the two are blood-related because they both had tanned skin and black hair, but a closer look tells me that Tanner's features are more Hispanic while Jake's are distinctly Greek.

"Daddy, are we gonna go all the way to the top?" Destiny asks, tugging on my sleeve until I look down at her. Her eyes are wide and she's practically quivering with excitement.

"Yeah, princess, all the way up," I agree. She lets out a squeal and starts bouncing again. I hear Tina laughing from behind me. It's another one of those moments where things seem almost normal, hearing Tina directly behind me like the way she always was back in high school. Shaking away the thought, I glance back at her. "Fearless, isn't she?"

"Oh, you have no idea," Tina answers with a smile. "That's how she lost that tooth about two years too soon."

We're finally up to the desk and after we pay for our tickets, we're escorted to the nearest lift. I take a steadying breath before getting inside. Even though I have to use them all the time, I'm still not much of a fan of elevators either. Mostly because lifts lead to heights.

Destiny keeps me pretty distracted as everyone loads into the lift, chattering animatedly about getting to go to the top, and I only half-notice when the doors shut. The strange swooping feeling in my stomach tells me we're moving, and I brace myself for the second most terrifying trip of my life (after that flight here, of course). Instead, it seems like it's only been a minute when the lift stops instead and the doors open.

"Already?" I ask in surprise.

"Yep," the man operating the elevator says brightly. "This thing travels eight-hundred feet per minute, which puts our travel time at about forty-three seconds."

I just nod, because I don't trust myself to speak at the moment. I wait until everyone else has left the lift before I follow them out. My eyes are instantly drawn to the huge windows that edge this entire place and my stomach leaps. Even from this far back, I can see a panorama shot of downtown Seattle, full of skyscrapers.

"So, how far up are we again?" I toss over my shoulder to Tina but then instantly shake my head. "You know what, never mind, I don't want to know."

"Daddy, come look," Destiny says, having already raced across the observatory deck to look out the giant window. She twists around to wave me over, and then points out the window. "Look, you can see all the way to the water!"

"You don't have to go up to the windows if you feel better back here," Tina whispers, still standing beside me. "She'll understand."

I swallow hard and then shake my head. "No, I don't want to disappoint her," I say resolutely. With that, I steel myself and then move forward, carefully inching my way closer to the windows. Tina stays just a few steps ahead of me, trying to look casual about her slow pace.

"Hey Artie," she says suddenly as we get closer to the windows. "Tip: only look forward, not down. It's less freaky."

"Thanks," I say, trying to keep my tone from sounding grim. I quickly put on a smile again as Destiny turns to beckon me eagerly. I stop just behind her, determinedly not letting my gaze drift any lower than what I can see over her shoulders.

"Look, Daddy, that's the water," she says brightly, pointing out at an expanse of dark blue partially surrounded by the city. "That's pawt of the ocean. It's pwetty, huh?"

"Yeah, pretty," I agree, and it's true. If I let myself forget that I'm so high off the ground, the view really is spectacular. As I stare out at the distant water, Destiny turns and wanders over to where Grace's little family is staring out to the east. I watch the white sails of a boat carving across the Puget Sound, and then a sudden thought makes me fish my phone out of my pocket and hand it out towards Tina, who is still standing a few feet to my right.

"Do you mind?" I ask. "Liz'll never believe I was actually here without a picture."

Grinning, Tina nods and takes the phone, switching on the camera as I spin my chair so the scenery is behind me. I smile awkwardly as she takes the picture, and only a few seconds later, Destiny has sprinted back over. Placing her hands on my knees, she leans forward and fixes me with her big blue puppy-eyed look. "Me too?" she asks hopefully.

Like I can say 'no' to that. "Of course you too," I answer, patting my lap. I help her climb up and once she's settled on my legs, pulling one of my hands around her waist with both of hers, she turns to Tina with a huge smile.

"Nee-nee, you are such a ham," Tina says, laughing even as she keeps taking pictures. After a minute, Grace comes up behind her and snatches the phone out of her hand. "Wha-?"

"One with you in there too," Grace instructs, gesturing vaguely in my direction as she looks over the phone for the button. Tina and I instantly exchange uneasy looks. When Grace glances back up at us, her expression softens. "C'mon, just one. For  _her_."

This time, the look we share is determined and the next thing I know, Tina is kneeling down beside me. Destiny is wriggling with excitement and, at the exact same time, Tina and I both place a hand on one of her arms to still her. The surprising coincidence makes me smile, and I can see out of the corner of my eye that Tina is too.

Grace presses the button, and my phone makes an old-fashioned camera shutter noise as it saves our first family photo to the memory card.


	17. Admittance and the Aunt

I fight back a yawn, despite the fact that it's only four in the afternoon, as I roll back into the hotel on Monday. As I predicted, my weekend of late nights made it so getting to sleep last night was a real chore, and it felt like I had only been asleep for a few minutes when my alarm woke me to go to work this morning. Shaking my head as I keep swallowing back the yawn, I cross the lobby and head for my room.

Once inside, I set my laptop case on the bed and then twist around to get my guitar from where it's hanging over the handles of my chair. This morning was a meeting at the Seattle School of Music, and it had gone nearly as well as the other business meetings had. The dean of the music production department was a really cool guy, who's clothing would've given Kurt a coronary (not that I have a lot of room to criticise there), but who knew his way around a music studio better than anyone I had seen before. I smile as I think about getting to go back tomorrow and join in on a production class, to see how the students take to the new technology.

I settle my guitar's case back down in its place and then head straight for the shower. It has been raining heavily all day long, and just the short trip from the school to the cab, and then the cab to the shelter of the hotel awning has gotten me wet and cold. It's a shame that the decent weather from yesterday hadn't hung around longer; I had almost seen the sun through the clouds yesterday.

Thinking about yesterday makes me both happy and thoroughly unnerved. I still can't believe that I spent over an hour on the observation deck of the Space Needle, which turned out to be five hundred and twenty feet on the streets of Seattle. I even willingly ventured within feet of the windows as Grace and Jake were pointing out landmarks to me.

After our photo session, Tina and I had kept our distance from each other. Our moment of mutual understanding in caring for Destiny had felt all too intimate, and I could tell she was thinking the same thing. We hardly spoke to each other the rest of the night, even after we'd left the Needle and gone to dinner at a nearby fast food restaurant that had an adjoined playground where the kids could run off the rest of their energy. I didn't mind the silence, though. It seems like every time we talk, we end up having those strange moments where things feel right, and it's all a bit overwhelming.

The foreboding reality of the fact that I'm leaving again soon is constantly floating at the back of my head too, and it's not helping the situation in any way. I feel pressured to make things right quickly, even though I know that there's no way we'll be able to get things situated in the less than three days I have left. At the same time, leaving Seattle and not knowing how things will work out after that is making me extremely nervous. What if we can't figure it out?

Shaking away that thought, I finish with my shower and go back into the room feeling sufficiently warmer. Stressing about it isn't going to make the problem any easier to fix. Instead, I dedicate myself to making sure I have everything prepared for tomorrow. If the class session tomorrow goes well, I'll be looking at another signed contract. Then it's just playing at a local grade school on Wednesday, and my work will be finished.

It's almost six when my ringing phone drags me away from the computer. Expecting it to be my boss, calling for another update, I'm instead surprised to see Tina's name on the caller ID. "Hey, Tina."

"Hi, Artie," she replies, sounding drawn and slightly breathless.

"What's the matter?" My stomach twists uncomfortably with nerves, and I can tell it's made my voice shoot up a half-octave.

"It's nothing serious," she Mr. "I'm just letting you know; I can't bring Destiny over tonight like I said I would yesterday. She's feeling sick, and I think it'd be better if she stays in bed."

Despite Tina's casual tone, warning alarms go off in my head, and I feel a sort of blurred panic welling up in me. "She'll be okay, right?"

Tina makes a muffled noise that I think might be her trying to hide a laugh. "Yes, calm down, she's fine," she assures me. "It's just a cold. Probably one of those twenty-four-hour bugs. I'll just bring her by tomorrow night instead?"

"Yeah, of course," I say. Even though it's not a serious illness, I feel a surge of over-protectiveness. I wish I could go and see her, but they live in a fourth-floor walk-up. "Tell her to get better from me, okay?"

"I will," Tina says. "Call tomorrow when you get done, and I'll bring her over." I agree, we exchange goodbyes, and then we hang up.

The moment my phone is closed, I let out a disappointed sigh. I had been looking forward to spending as much of my available time with Destiny as possible before having to go back to Chicago. After all, I don't have much time left, and I'm not sure just when I'll see her again.

 _It's okay,_  I tell myself.  _She'll rest and get better tonight, and you'll see her tomorrow._

Repeating that mantra in my head, I take a much-needed dinner break. Just as I start eating, my phone buzzes with a text message. I open the screen and promptly roll my eyes.

_Lizzie: Get on your computer! :P_

I smile a bit because it's Lizzie and despite the fact that she's my obnoxious baby sister, she always makes me smile. It's pretty obvious that the reason she wants me on the computer is so we can chat, and I'm looking forward to it since we haven't talked since Wednesday night. Not to mention I could use the distraction since my evening plans are now ruined. I hesitate, cast a wistful glance at my clam chowder, and then answer.

_Eating. B there in 30 mins._

I've eaten a few hasty spoonfuls when I get her reply.  _Fine, hurry._  I slip my phone back into my pocket and eat as quickly as I can without choking. Seventeen minutes later, I place the money on the table and head back to my room. While my computer turns back on and connects to the hotel internet server, I situate myself on the bed. Only seconds after the web connection sets, a video chat invitation lights up on my screen.

It takes a minute for the video box to load, and when it does, I'm greeted by an image of a very impatient looking little sister. "About time!" she exclaims dramatically, tossing her hands up for emphasis.

"Hi to you, too," I say with a laugh. "Where's the fire?"

Lizzie looks like she can't decide whether to scowl at me or laugh, so she settles on something in between. "You do realise we haven't talked in like –" she pauses, mouthing the days of the week as she counts on her fingers, "– five whole days."

"What's the matter, Liz, can't go a couple of days without seeing me?"

"I was worried you had died of withdrawals of my awesomeness," she replies without missing a beat. She smirks, and I roll my eyes sarcastically. "So, how are things?"

"Good," I answer vaguely. Instantly, my mind is racing with all that's happened since I last talked to her. We haven't spoken since this whole Tina thing started. Oh God, how do I tell her the truth? I know I'm going to have to tell her eventually. I change topics, stalling for time. "How's Duck?"

Lizzie lets out a theatrical huff of exasperation before grinning. "Terrified now that he knows you're going to be here for my birthday," she says, laughing. "I think he said something about investing in a pair of steel-toed boots." I smirk triumphantly. Lizzie indulges me for a second and then her expression gets more serious. "So how are you,  _really_?"

"What do you mean?" I ask evasively, trying to act innocent and praying my panic doesn't show through.

Lizzie raises an eyebrow. "Please, Artie, we both know you're a terrible liar," she says pointedly. I grimace but grudgingly nod. "So what's up? Work not going well?"

"No, work's going great," I say quickly. "Much better than anticipated."

I pause, and she just watches me expectantly. As I'm fumbling to find the right words or any words at all, her eyes suddenly widen. "Is she in your head that bad?"

"You could say that," I admit off-handedly. She looks seriously concerned, which makes me feel guilty. She was with me in those darkest days, and I can still remember how scared I made her when I fell apart like that. I take a deep breath to steady myself and let it out in a loud exhale before continuing. "You remember how I said I thought I saw her the other morning?"

"Have you been seeing her a lot more?" Lizzie asks anxiously. I smile wryly because the way she's talking makes me feel like she thinks I'm a basketcase. Considering the situation, though, she probably has good reason to.

"I've seen her every day since," I answer, and she looks truly alarmed now. I breathe in and out again, and then deliver the final blow. "Liz, it really was her. Tina. She's really here." She's just staring, dumbstruck, so I hurry on before she decides I need to be institutionalised. "She's not dead, she's alive, living here in Seattle. I didn't believe it at first, but I swear it, this isn't another hallucination. It's real."

Lizzie is gaping openly at me through the internet connection, and I can see a whirl of emotions going on behind her blank expression. I wait nervously for a reaction and finally see it coming when something in her eyes stirs back to life. However, of all the things I might have expected to happen, I am definitely caught off guard when her face lights up with a brilliant smile. "Really?" she asks hopefully, an eager excitement under her voice. Then before I can process this first reaction, she suddenly scowls at me. "Why didn't you tell me earlier, you idiot?"

The only answer I can manage is a confused, "What?"

"It's been days and you never thought to call and tell me that you found her!" she all but shouts at me incredulously. "Jesus, Artie!"

It takes a few seconds longer before my brain catches up to the conversation. When I do, I let out a surprised laugh. "Sorry but I've kind of had a lot to deal with," I say, shaking my head. "It's been a lot to take in."

I can tell Lizzie is surveying my face through the video and her brow pulls down thoughtfully. "You don't seem very happy for someone who just found the love of his life again," she observes questioningly.

"Have you even given any thought to why she left in the first place?" I ask, a bit more harshly than intended.

"Well yeah, I've spent five years wondering," she says with a small shrug, and I can tell by her reaction that I hurt her. "But I always figured she must have had some good reason. I know she wouldn't have gone away for something stupid. She loved you too much for that." I wince at the blunt remark but push it away. "So what was it?" she presses. "You obviously know, and I can tell there's definitely something more to this story than you're letting on. What happened to her?"

I'm not sure whether the feeling in my chest is pain or guilt or relief, because it could be all three. It takes me a full minute before I can meet Lizzie's gaze, but once I do the truth comes spilling out of me in a rush. "She got pregnant."

"Pregnant?" Lizzie asks, but before her face can even take on a confused look to match her tone, she suddenly goes wide-eyed in understanding. "Oh my god. You? You're a –?"

"Dad," I supply. "Yeah."

Once again surprising me, Lizzie lets out an enthusiastic squeal, clapping her hands in front of her chest in a way that would have made Rachel Berry proud. "Oh my God, Artie, this is so exciting," she nearly shrieks, still not managing to sit still in her chair. "Is it a boy or a girl? Is it cute? What am I saying, of course it is. Even if it's your kid, it's still an Abrams."

"Elizabeth, would you chill?" I ask, and she instantly freezes, frowning at my use of her full first name.

"Well I'm sorry,  _Arthur_ , but I happen to be excited that I'm an aunt again," she says, planting her fists on her hips, which still looks intimidating even though she's sitting. She stares at my set expression a couple seconds longer before she seems to click onto why I'm not dancing with joy, and suddenly I see the sadness in her eyes. "But why would she leave because she was pregnant?" she asks so quietly her voice sounds static-y in the speakers. There's a sort of hopeless desperation in her gaze that makes my chest feel tight, and my eyes burn; I know why she looks that way.

She always looked up to Tina, almost revered her, and now she's going through every disconnected thought I had that first night when I found out. It hurts me to see it. Even though I know the truth won't fix it, I tell her everything that I've learned in the last five days, starting with chancing across her in the ballroom and working my way through the patchwork explanations I have for what Tina's been doing since she left Lima.

My throat is dry and sore by the time her story ends up back in Seattle, and a silence stretches between Lizzie and me while she takes it all in. I use the time to swallow several times, trying to ease the itching in my throat, and all the while I watch the parade of emotions on Liz's face as she processes each piece of the puzzle.

Finally she lets out a loud breath and says, "Poor Tina." My only reply is a humourless chuckle. Lizzie looks up at this and stares at me curiously. "What are you going to do?"

"I have no idea," I admit, rubbing the back of my neck tensely. "All I know is that I've got to figure something out so that I can see Destiny because there is no way I am just leaving her behind."

"Oh, I knew that," Liz says, waving aside my answer. "I meant what are you going to do about Tina?"

This catches me off guard and I blink in confusion for a second. "What do you mean, what am I doing about Tina?"

Lizzie gawks at me like I've just asked what comes after 'A' in the alphabet. "Seriously?" she asks in amazement, and I almost think she's expecting me to say 'April Fools!' When I don't, she sighs, shakes her head, and rolls her eyes, all in quick succession. "You are such an idiot," she informs me.

"Thanks," I say dryly.

"You're in love with her, stupid," she says like I hadn't interrupted. Now I'm the one staring. "You just found the girl that you have been madly in love with for, like, more than a decade. What are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing," I say flatly. "I'm not going to do anything about it. Liz, this isn't some faerie tale. We can't just pick things up where we left off like nothing happened. She's spent years thinking I betrayed her. Something in the back of my brain still thinks she's dead. And she kept my daughter from me for almost five years. We can't just pretend those things didn't happen just because we found out the things we thought weren't true."

Lizzie scoffs. "Well, of course, you can't pretend they didn't happen," she says. "But that doesn't mean you guys can't move past it. Artie, something led you back to Tina that night."

"Yeah, a coercing, manipulative, psychologist flatmate," I mutter until she silences me with a glare.

"Maybe this is fate giving you two back what her parents stole from you," she continues determinedly. "Maybe this is fate giving you guys a second chance."

Grace's words flash through my mind suddenly.  _This place is all about second chances._  Could that be what this is? Is some cosmic power giving us the opportunity we lost all those years ago? Before I can let my mind drift too far down that path, I shake my head and turn my focus back to the screen. "I don't believe in fate," I say simply.

Lizzie looks sad, but she nods. "At least think about it," she says. Then without waiting for my answer, she puts on a bright smile and says, "So when do I get to meet my niece? Do you have a picture of her I can see?"

I'm about to say no before realising I do, and I pull my phone out of my pocket. "Do you have your phone with you?" I ask while I'm flipping through what turns out to be almost thirty pictures on my phone from yesterday.

"Do I ever  _not_ have it?" Liz rebuts. I laugh in response, finally settling on a picture that's not blurred by Destiny's movements, and send it to her. It only takes a few seconds before I hear her ringtone through the computer connection.

"That was taken yesterday at the Space Needle," I say, and Lizzie looks up from grabbing her phone in surprise.

" _You_  went to the Space Needle?" she asks disbelievingly.

"Spent over an hour on the observation deck," I say smugly, and her eyes widen.

"I'm impressed," she says and then takes her gaze away from the computer to look down at her opened phone. There's a brief wait and then, "Awwwhhh! She's adorable! I want one!"

"No!" I say firmly, making Lizzie look up with a raised eyebrow. "No children for you for like, ten more years. You can't be doing those sort of things 'til you're married."

Lizzie just snorts derisively and looks down at the phone again. "Yeah, says Mr Knocked-Up-His-Girlfriend-When-She-Was-Seventeen," she shoots back. I open my mouth to reply before realising that I really don't have any argument to that. I let out a defeated grumble, and on the computer screen, Lizzie grins victoriously.


	18. Family Drama

"Need a hand?" I look up and see Dr. Lane, the dean of the Seattle School of Music, standing over me with his hands in the pockets of his khakis.

"Yeah, thanks," I say, letting him take the closed soft guitar case from me and hang it by the straps over the handles of my chair. When he's finished I haul my worn laptop case, which generally doubles as my briefcase, into my lap.

"You look like someone with the weight of the world on their shoulders," he remarks sagely. I look up with a raised eyebrow. "Got a lot on your mind?"

I bite my lip, considering how to answer, and then I shrug. "Family drama," I say vaguely. It's at least an honest answer. On top of all that I'm already dealing with as far as Tina and Destiny go, now I'm feeling paranoid about my immediate family too.

After our conversation last night, Lizzie swore she wouldn't tell our parents and that she would let me be the one to break the news in my own way. I was still up most of the night imagining her tongue slipping and how my parents would react to hearing that. It got so bad that I nearly called them just to be safe, before reason kicked in and reminded me that four in the morning was probably not an appropriate time for breaking the news. Now every time my phone rings I panic, thinking it's them.

"Ooh, bummer," he says sympathetically. "Anything I can do to help?"

I grin. "Got a spare time machine in your garage?" He laughs appreciatively as he holds the sound room door open for me. "But thanks for the offer anyway. And thanks for letting me demo with your classes today."

"Thanks for coming," Dr. Lane says, falling into step beside me as he leads me toward the building exit. "I was impressed, they really seemed to take to your program well. You've got some real geniuses in that development department of yours." We stop at the front entrance and he turns to me with a smile. "I was also impressed by your guitar skills. How are you not touring with a band?"

I thankfully manage to keep back a blush as I laugh. "I don't have enough stage presence for that," I say off-handedly. I don't have to say the real reason because we both already know. There's not much of a place on a rock concert stage for a wheelchair.

"Where did you do your training?" he asks curiously.

"My bedroom, mostly," I answer. Dr. Lane's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "I had a lot of free time when I was younger, so I taught myself. The closest thing I've had to professional training was when I joined the high school jazz band and the teacher showed me a better way to position my fingers so I didn't wear out my wrist as much."

"Remarkable," he says. "You've got some mad talent, Mr Abrams. If I am ever in need of a recording guitarist, you'll be the top of my calling list." His expression turns thoughtful, and he adds, "In fact, if our guitar teacher ever decides to retire, I'll have to look you up and see if you're interested."

My stunned brain's only response is a stammered, "Wow. Really? Thanks." It's not every day I get job offers from one of the most prestigious music academies in the western US.

"Not a problem, my friend," he replies with a grin. "It was a pleasure doing business with you."

"Yeah, thanks," I say, reaching up to shake his hand. "It was an honour. I look forward to doing more business with your school in the future."

He smiles as he pushes the front door open for me. "And good luck with your family drama." I laugh wryly and cast one more thanks over my shoulder on my way to the car waiting at the curb for me. The rain has mercifully decided to lessen to a mist so I get into the car and get my things in after me without anything getting too wet, and once everything is situated, the cab heads back toward my hotel.

It takes all of my self-control to not call Tina the moment I get into the car and ask about Destiny. I want to know that she is feeling better and to ask Tina to bring her straight over so I can see her, but I remind myself I still have a few more things I need to get done before that. Once I'm back in my room I hurry through putting away my work and showering, trying to get everything finished as quickly as possible. It's just after five when I finally dial the number printed on the napkin that's still sitting on my night-table.

The phone rings four times before there's an answer. "Hey Artie," Tina says, sounding slightly breathless again. Instantly, my stomach plummets.

"Did something happen?" I ask anxiously.

"No, no it's nothing serious like that," Tina says in a rush. "It's just – I'm sorry, but Destiny's not feeling any better today."

"Oh," I say lamely. The same disappointment that had swept over me yesterday has come back, and I slump against the back of my chair.

"I'm sorry, Artie, I know how badly you wanted to spend more time with her," Tina says and I recognise the desperate sincerity in her voice. "This is awful timing. I'm really, really sorry."

"Don't be sorry," I say with a small laugh at her apology. "You always did apologise for the weirdest things," I add thoughtfully, and I hear Tina's soft chuckle from the other end of the line. "It's fine, I know how these things are."

"I still feel terrible," she says. "She's been asking all day if she'll be well enough to see you. In fact, just a second." I wait curiously and I can hear a faint murmur of voices that I can't make out distinctly. Then there's a scrabbling sound through the phone before a cautious, "Daddy?"

"Hi Princess," I say, feeling a smile take over my expression easily at the sound of her voice. "How are you feeling?"

"Icky," she says and I laugh. At the same time, my heart clenches at the hoarseness of her voice. "I gots a cough. Momma says I gotta stay in bed 'til it goes 'way, but I wanna go and sing with you again."

"I know, I'm sorry, but you gotta listen to your mom so you can get better," I say. Listening to Destiny's sick voice, I suddenly gain a new respect for my mother. I'm going crazy with worry over my daughter and all she has is a cold. I can't even imagine how my mom kept her sanity after all those long nights she spent at my bedside after the accident.

"Okay," Destiny agrees grudgingly, and then a bout of coughing sounds through the phone that makes my chest ache in sympathy.

"How about this? If you aren't feeling well enough to come see me tomorrow, I'll come see you, okay?" I offer.

"Really?" Destiny asks, and I can visualise her wide-eyed smile in my mind. "But Momma says you can't come here 'cause we gots stairs."

"I don't care about some stupid stairs," I say resolutely. "I'll fly if I have to." Destiny's giggle turns into a cough after only a few seconds. "But I promise, I will see you tomorrow."

"Promise?" she asks hopefully.

"Promise," I reply. "But you have to get some sleep, so you're feeling better, okay? Listen to your mom and do what she says."

"Okay, Daddy," she says. "I'm'a take a nap right now, so I get gooder fast."

"Okay, you do that," I say with a grin at her enthusiasm. "Good night, Princess."

"Night, Daddy," she responds. "Love you."

"Love you too," I answer. There's a weird scratching noise again, and I wonder whether I should hang up or not, but then there's a breath against the speaker, and I realise that the phone was just handed back to Tina.

"What did you promise her?" Tina asks curiously.

"I just said that if she can't come over tomorrow, then I'll come see her," I say. I hear Tina's abrupt inhale, and I know what she's thinking. "I'm not going to leave without seeing her at least once more before I do."

"Artie, we don't have an elevator," she says.

"I can handle stairs if I have to," I say simply. "You know that, you've seen me do it before. So long as you can carry my chair up, I can do the rest on my own."

There's a moment of hesitant silence from the other end of the line, and then she says, "Okay, if that's what we have to do we'll work something out. But it shouldn't come to that. She'll be better by tomorrow. It's just a little cold, it shouldn't last much longer."

"Right, it was just in case," I agree. A voice in the back of my mind is reminding me that Tina said almost the exact same thing yesterday, but I push that thought aside. No reason to be a pessimist. She's just a little kid, that's why the cold is hitting her so hard. Another good night's sleep will make her better. That nagging feeling in my mind is just that paternal worry my parents always told me about.

"I'm sorry you didn't get to see her again today, Artie," Tina says again. "And we do still need to talk about what to do after you go home. Any more clue on how we'll work this out?"

"Nothing more than what we've already discussed," I say glumly. "Unless of course one of us can manage to work it so we can move to another state," I add with a humourless laugh.

Tina's laugh sounds as lacking in enthusiasm as mine. "That could be difficult," she says. "But I suppose if we can't figure anything else out, it would be something to look into."

I'm a little caught off guard by her answer, since I was only joking when I suggested it. There's no way I could actually ask her to just uproot herself and move across the country, and I can't exactly do it either. It's not like there are a lot of well-paying jobs for handicapped people.

"Oh, sorry Artie, but I've got to go make dinner for Tanner before I have to get ready for work," she says abruptly. "We'll talk about this later, okay? And I'll call you tomorrow to let you know how she's doing."

"Okay, I'll talk to you tomorrow then," I say. We both say goodbye and then I hang up, tossing my phone unhappily onto the bed. It only seems fitting that at that moment a loud crash of thunder signifies the arrival of yet another massive storm. I sigh and adjust my gloves. It looks like another night of finding ways to keep myself entertained so I don't brood on everything that's going on.

The rest of my evening drags on incredibly slowly. A little while after hanging up with Tina, I venture down to the dining hall to have dinner. I had considered going out to eat, just for a little variety, but the downpour outside quickly banishes that idea. The entire time I'm eating, I try to focus on not thinking too much, but as usual I fail pretty miserably at it. There are just too many things going on in my head for me to not think about them.

After dinner I go back to my room and set about making sure everything I won't be needing for the rest of the trip is packed away. Since I'll be spending tomorrow night with Destiny, regardless of where she's at, I won't likely have the time to pack things up later. Unfortunately this doesn't end up taking all that long, since I am by nature a very organised person and most of my stuff is already arranged.

For a while I toy with my phone, considering the possibility of calling my parents and telling them what's going on. It would at least be a guaranteed way of killing time, since I'm sure the explanation and the barrage of questions that would undoubtedly follow will take even longer than the four hours it did with my sister. I actually get as far as opening my phone before deciding against it. In just two weeks I'll be heading home for the fourth of July and my sister's birthday, and I can't help but think that this would be something more easily explained in person. Or maybe that's just my brain trying to rationalise for my cowardice. Either way, I'll wait.

When I glance at my watch and see the time, I turn towards my room door before I catch myself and stop. Tina is just starting a show, and I almost considered going to it, even if it's just to pass the time. All of the emotions attached to my ex-girlfriend (or my sort of ex, since I'm not exactly sure where we stand on that) are buzzing through my head at once and I instantly decide that maybe attending her show won't be a good idea. There are a lot of confusing things going on in my brain that I fear will only get worse when I'm actually seeing her.

An hour of fretting about and doing nothing later, I finally give up and decide just to turn in. Even with my whirring mind, I'm still sleep deprived, and it isn't all that difficult to fall asleep.

* * *

_I hum in pleasure as I feel her lips moving steadily up the side of my neck. She smiles against my cheek and then rests her head down on my shoulder again, burrowing her face against my collar. Taking the teasing in stride, I just pull the arm around her waist tighter and ignore the building twist below my stomach._

_"I love you," she murmurs into the open collar of my shirt. "Have I ever told you that?"_

_"Innumerable times, but I don't get bored of hearing it, so it's okay," I answer without missing a beat._

_She laughs, the noise muffled by the way her mouth is pressed against my collarbone. After a moment, she tilts her head back so she's looking up at me and smiles. "Well, that's a relief because I intend to keep saying it."_

_I can't help but smirk. "Cheesy much?"_

_She shrugs. "Yeah, maybe a bit," she agrees. "But so are every one of those pick-up lines you try to use, so we're square." I feign offence, and she grins playfully. In retaliation, she leans up and kisses behind my ear gently, making me shudder. "You are so easy," she giggles into my ear._

_"And you are a dirty, rotten cheater," I reply, dragging my free arm out from beneath my head to flick her forehead lightly. "I have no idea how on earth I put up with you all the time. You're lucky I love you so much."_

_"I know," she says confidently, settling her chin down on my chest so I can still meet her gaze. Something in my chest warms and stirs at the weight behind her playful response, and I don't miss her implication. It's always astounded me how she can take a simple statement and make it mean so much. For someone who used to have a hard time talking, she has an incredible way with words._

_"Can you believe we're going to be seniors in just a few weeks?" I ask idly. "Wow."_

_"Think maybe that means we'll get slushied less?" she asks with a laugh and at the same time, we both shake our heads. "I don't mind. So long as you're still around to make me feel better whenever it happens, I don't really care."_

_I smile. "Always, Tee."_

_"It is hard to believe we're that close to graduation, though," she continues, acknowledging my answer with a sweet smile. "Just one more school year and we'll be done and out into the real world. It's kind of scary."_

_"Yeah, I know what you mean," I agree. "But I'll still be there to clean you up and make you feel better after high school too," I offer jokingly, and she laughs._

_"Thanks, although I'm hoping the slushies stop after the diplomas come out," she deadpans. Then her expression gets more serious and she says, "What do you think we'll do after graduation? I mean, besides enduring even more school, of course."_

_Her look of disgust at the thought of college makes me laugh, even as I think over the more genuine question. "You mean as far as 'us' is concerned?" I ask for clarification, and she nods. "Well I imagine we'll keep going like we are, won't we? Our relationship won't change just because we've graduated. Will it?"_

_She laughs again. "Don't look so horrified," she teases. "I'll think you're afraid to lose me or something." When I just raise an eyebrow, she rolls her eyes. "No, things won't change. We'll still be us, just an older, cooler, more successful sounding us."_

_"Cooler,_ ri _-_ iight _," I say sceptically._

_"Okay, maybe not cooler," she agrees with a shrug. "Even though I think we're cool anyway." I grin and nod, and we lapse into quiet again. "I just mean," she starts up again suddenly, "have you ever thought about us being, you know, more?"_

_Her point hits me abruptly, and I make a little 'oh' of comprehension. "You mean like getting married?" I ask, and I realise my mouth is very dry all of a sudden._

_"Not right away, of course," she says hurriedly, looking nervous. "Just, you know, someday."_

_"Well, yeah, I've thought about it," I say, trying to sound casual. She might know me better than I know myself most days, but I'm not too eager to admit I've thought about it a lot. Enough that I've started putting away all of my extra money for a very important piece of jewellery. "And I think, yeah, someday it would be, you know, nice."_

_She examines my expression for a minute and then she smiles. "You are so eloquent," she jibes, and I laugh in relief._

_"Oh you know you love it," I say dismissively._

_She grins and leans up to kiss me, this time fully on the mouth. "Always, Artie. Always."_

* * *

The sound of my phone ringing breaks through my sleep and I blink in bemusement. It's completely dark in the room except for the light coming from the screen of my phone, and outside I can still hear the heavy pound of rain. Clearly it's still the middle of the night. So why on earth is someone calling me?

Instantly, my brain goes to my parents, and I feel something hard settle in my stomach. Oh no, they found out, and now they're calling to interrogate me. Swallowing down my panic, my hand fumbles over the nightstand until it finally lands on my phone. I grab it and bring it close to my face so I can read the screen.

The first thing my eyes catch is the little clock at the bottom of the screen. It's 1:27 am. Something about the time sends my heart racing, although I can't be sure exactly why that is. Next, my gaze flicks up to the caller ID and a pool of dread forms when I see that it's most definitely not my parents.

Pressing the answer button, I hastily put the phone to my ear. "Tina, what's the matter?" I ask, not even bothering with a greeting.

"Artie, I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you but you've gotta come," Tina says in a rambling rush. There's a strange catch in her voice and it only takes me a second to place the sadly familiar noise. She's trying not to cry.

"What happened?" I ask, instantly alert. I'm already sitting up in bed, shoving my glasses onto my face with my free hand.

There's a heavy, shuddering noise. "Destiny got worse. I had to take her in. They've just transferred her to the Seattle Children's Hospital." The phone slips from my hand as my entire world collapses in on itself again.


	19. The Panic Room

The front lobby of the Seattle Children's Hospital seems unnaturally calm as I roll in. Everything is painted in serene colours, and the room's only occupants are the receptionist behind the desk and a nurse leaning against the counter. They both stare at me as I push myself across the lobby toward them.

"Can I help you?" the woman behind the counter asks gently, standing up so she can see me over the edge.

"I need to find my daughter," I say in a rush. "She was just transferred here. Her name is Destiny…" I trail off, realising I don't actually know my daughter's last name. Does she use Tina's or mine? Or maybe an entirely different one? After all, I don't even know if Tina kept her parents' last name or if she had it changed. If I went through what she did because of them, I would have dropped their name in a heartbeat. Still, it's the only lead I had. "Destiny Cohen-Chang," I try hesitantly.

"One moment," the receptionist says, disappearing behind the counter to check her computer. I anxiously drum my hands against my armrests as I wait, my panic building with every second. "Oh yes, here she is," she says from behind the counter, and I look up at the same time that she stands up again. "Are you Arthur Abrams?"

"Yes, why?"

"You're listed as the girl's father, is that correct?" she asks and I silently nod, noting that she didn't really answer my question. "Alright, I only had to check. The ward she's in is family-only visitation."

I grip my wheels tightly, my stomach plummeting. I have spent enough of my life in and around hospitals to know what that means. 'Family only' means serious condition. Things are never good when visitation is limited to family members only. A whole new wave of panic sweeps through me as I once again wonder what's happened to my daughter to put her in so much danger.

"She's up on the second floor," the receptionist says, drawing my attention back to her. Her expression is sympathetic, which doesn't actually make me feel any better. "Room 206. There's a waiting room just to the right of the lifts where you can wait. The doctor will come find you once they are finished."

I murmur a distracted thank you and then push myself to the row of lifts in the hall behind the front desk. When one of them opens, I roll into it alone and spend the short trip up anxiously twisting my hands together, my freezing and sore palms making me realise I left my gloves in the hotel room.

The hallway of the second floor is painted in a very pale yellow, but this floor isn't nearly as quiet or empty as the first. There is a steady stream of doctors and nurses moving around, as well as the occasional person in street clothes, all of them wearing the same weary expression that tells me they are the family of patients. It's a look I recognise, the same one I've seen on my mother's face way too many times.

I find the waiting room beside the lifts, marked with a plaque stuck on the wall next to the open doorframe, and I carefully navigate the doorway on my way in. The inside of the room is lined with stiff-looking chairs and little tables laden with colourful magazines and children's books. A middle-aged man is snoring in one of the chairs, and on the other side of the room, a figure in black is pacing a tense line.

"Tina?" I ask tentatively. She stops abruptly, lifting her head so her hair parts and I can see her face. Her face is make-up free but I can still see very distinct signs of tears. When she sees me, her expression crumbles.

"Oh Artie," she gasps, her tone sounding utterly heartbroken. In a few swift steps, she crosses the room to me and, before I even realise it's happening, she's collapsed down into my lap and wrapped her arms around me. It takes a second for the shock to wear off, but the moment I feel her shuddery sob against my shoulder, I curl my arms around her back and hug her tightly.

The warmth of her tears through the thin tee-shirt I threw on after she called is not entirely reassuring. I still have no idea what has even happened to our daughter, except that judging by the circumstances it must have been really bad. There is nothing I can do to make it better and nothing I can do to speed things up so we can know sooner. A feeling of helplessness overwhelms me, and when Tina tightens her arms around my neck, I find myself burying my face in her hair and crying too.

I'm not sure how much longer it is when Tina finally quiets, but when she does she stands up so abruptly she stumbles. "I'm sorry," she says in a rush, wiping the backs of her hands over her cheeks and looking anywhere but at me. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have. I just…"

"It's fine," I say offhandedly, trying to ignore the weird part in the back of my mind that feels hurt she pulled away. I dismiss that as my emotional turmoil over Destiny and her condition. "What happened?"

"I don't know," she says, taking a few shaky steps over to drop into the nearest chair. I push myself after her, angling my chair beside hers. "I thought it was just a cold, but it just kept getting worse. Her fever spiked and then she was coughing all night. Then suddenly she just–," she pauses, her voice cracking. She clears her throat and then tries again. "She just couldn't breathe. She was just gasping and wheezing and – and she was so scared and…" She trails off again, letting her head drop into her hands.

The fear in my chest feels like it's tightening and I search frantically for some form of comfort or security. Optimism is my main defence against things like this, but the truth of the matter is that the lack of information has left me without something to fuel my optimism. I look over at Tina as she lifts her head again, and the expression in her eyes is saying the same thing I'm thinking. I don't even think about it as I reach over and grab her hand for strength.

"I'm sorry again," she murmurs, staring down at our hands instead of looking up at me. "For basically throwing myself at you like that. I just – it's been a long night."

"It's okay," I assure her. "Really. I understand." When she doesn't look convinced, I pull out the faintest smile and add, "I was gonna jump in your lap, but you beat me to it."

There's the slightest curl in her lips, completely at odds with the fear in her eyes. "Thanks, Artie. You know, for everything."

I can tell that there is so much more to that statement than just what's on the surface, but right now doesn't seem like a good time to delve into all of that. I just squeeze her hand in acknowledgement, and we lapse into a nervous quiet. After about ten minutes a doctor walks in, but he approaches the sleeping man and both Tina and I look down again in disappointment.

"Artie, your hands are bleeding," Tina says suddenly, releasing my hand like it had just burned her. In surprise, I look down and see that two of my scraped knuckles are red with blood, along with a fingernail on my right hand that broke down below the cusp.

"Oh, God, sorry," I say, embarrassedly trying to rub away the scarlet on my fingertip. Before I can even touch it, Tina has grabbed my hand again, and this time she dabs at the blood with a crumpled tissue.

"Where are your gloves?" she asks concernedly.

"I forgot them," I admit with a shrug. "I was in a hurry." I feel my neck burning with embarrassment as I remember my chaotic rush to get dressed. It's humiliating that even though all I did was put on a shirt and my shoes, just that little bit still took me almost a half hour. When I look over at Tina again there is something in her gaze that tells me she understands. Compelled by that, I finish, "It's frustrating, be so slow when I needed to be hurrying. I wanted to get here quicker, I just…" I trail off with an aggravated groan.

"I know," she says gently, brushing her thumb over the back of my hand once. I run a hand through my hair in agitation, and we settle into silence again, except for the occasional impatient sigh.

With each new minute that passes, Tina's grip on my hand tightens until my fingers are aching. I wish that I had thought to grab my watch, so I can know how long we've been sitting. Surely they must have some news by now. We've been in here forever. Does that mean something went wrong? No, it can't. Not to Destiny.

"Destiny Cohen-Chang's family?"

I lift my head and Tina bolts straight to her feet as we both turn to look at the door. A young man in scrubs is standing in the frame, and when he notices our attention, he quickly walks over. "Destiny is just fine," he says before either of us can ask.

"Oh thank God," Tina breathes, slumping back down into her chair. She pulls her hand from mine to press her palms to her eyes. The doctor slips into the vacant seat on her other side so he can talk to us both.

"She is stabilised and breathing on her own again," he continues reassuringly. All my brain can process is that there was ever a point in time that she got bad enough that she  _wasn't_ breathing on her own. "We're going to keep monitoring her for a few more days, but it looks like as long as this stays under control, then she'll make a full recovery and be able to be released by the end of the week."

"What happened?" I ask because I'm not sure Tina is going to resurface from behind her hands anytime soon to ask it herself. "I mean, what was wrong with her?"

"Illness triggered asthma attack," he explains. "It appears that her IRDS gave her asthma, and when her chest cold developed into pneumonia, the sensitivity of her lungs triggered an asthma attack."

"Her IRS what?" I ask in confusion. Tina even lifts her head halfway, her brow furrowed questioningly.

"Infant respiratory distress syndrome," he says, and Tina's expression softens in comprehension. I, however, am still completely lost and apparently the doctor can tell. "It basically means that she was born with underdeveloped lungs." I distantly remember something Tina told me, something I had disregarded at the time because I had other things on my mind.  _She was really sick at first, there was something wrong with her lungs, and they didn't think she was going to make it._  How could I ignore something like that, regardless of the timing? I had never asked about what she meant by that, and I had forgotten entirely about it until just now. I feel guilt seeping through the cracks in the wall of fear in my chest.

"IRDS has a high fatality rate, she was one of the fortunate ones that survived it," the doctor keeps going, drawing me out of my thoughts, "but that initial strain left scarring on her lungs. The scarring is what caused her asthma. She is very lucky to have not shown serious symptoms before now."

"But she's going to be okay, right?" Tina asks in a weak, hopeful voice. "She'll get better, or you can fix this, so it won't happen again, right?"

"Now that we know what the problem is, we'll be able to treat and manage it," he says so confidently that I feel a bit of relief as well. "Once she's recovered from this, we can put her onto medicated inhalers for asthma. We'll teach your family what to watch for and how to react, so hopefully we can prevent something like this from happening again. Asthma is a very common condition, incredibly manageable."

The tense knot in my chest eases just slightly. Manageable. That's a word I'm familiar with. It's not the greatest word, that would be 'treatable,' but manageable is good too. Tina must agree because she reaches over and grips my forearm lightly, without any of the anxious strength of fifteen minutes ago.

"Can we see her now?" she asks tremulously.

"Yes, of course," the doctor says, standing up even while he's still nodding. Tina grabs her bag from beneath her chair and stands up as well. The moment I've unlocked my wheels, she steps up behind my chair.

"I can get it," I say, trying to wave her off.

She gives me something like a wan smirk. "Not with your hands like that," she says pointedly. I glance down at the stained tissue in my hand and grudgingly agree. As Tina navigates my chair out of the waiting room, I fidget uncomfortably. I haven't let anyone push my chair since high school and surrendering that control feels strange. I can't decide whether it makes it easier or harder that I'm surrendering it to the only person that I ever let push my chair without some sort of medical reason.

"She's still asleep," the doctor says while we're moving down the hall. "She was already tired and we had to give her a mild sedative to relax her lungs, so we don't expect her to be awake for at least two hours more. There will be a nurse coming by to check on her every thirty minutes, and she can help you if you need anything. I'll be back in once she is awake."

He stops beside a door, and my heart jumps in my chest when I see the number on the plaque by the door. 206. This is it. The doctor gives us a soft, reassuring smile and nods. I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I reach up to squeeze it one more time before Tina pushes us through the door.


	20. Not Alone

Hospital room two-oh-six looks so much like every other hospital room I've been in before. It has the same whitewashed walls, florescent lighting, and sterilised smell. The same vertical blinds in the windows, same plastic visitor's chairs, same white and blue blanketed mechanical bed. The only significant difference for me is that for once, I'm not the one in that bed.

The only times I've been to a hospital since my accident without being the patient were when my nephews were born and when Lizzie broke her wrist when she was seven. And I don't even count the latter because she broke it tripping over me and I had to get stitches when it knocked me out of my chair.

This time it's my daughter in that bed instead of me. As I stare at the tiny figure beneath the blankets, I immediately wish I could take her place. Being a patient myself would be so much better than this.

Destiny looks so incredibly small tucked into that hospital bed. She is barely bigger than the pillow beneath her head, and she looks bleached and pale against the stark, white sheets, except for a dull flush in her cheeks. Her wide blue eyes are closed, the lids dark, and for once her smile is missing somewhere beneath the oxygen tube resting limply under her nose. The transformation is so drastic that my stomach churns and I have to take several breaths to not lose myself.

Over my shoulder, I hear Tina let out a quiet gasp and then she mutters a sad, "Oh, Nee-nee." She walks around me towards the bed but surprises me when instead of going immediately to Destiny, she pushes one of the visitor's chairs out of the way so I can join her.

"Thanks," I say quietly and roll to a stop beside the chair she's left for herself. She only acknowledges me with a nod, her attention already diverted to Destiny. Settling herself into the chair, she reaches up to wrap Destiny's little hand in both of hers. I twist my hands in my lap anxiously, trying not to be jealous of the fact that she can do that. It'd be a miracle if I could reach, and even if I could, her free hand is riddled with IV needles.

"She looks so small," Tina whispers suddenly. I look sideways at her curiously, but she hasn't taken her eyes off Destiny. "She's always been kind of small for her age, but she looks so little there."

"Yeah," I agree distractedly. Now that the initial panic is over, I feel oddly numb. It's like I managed to keep my wits long enough to know she would be okay, and now that that's over, the shock is finally setting in.

My daughter could have died. I haven't even known my daughter for a full week yet, and I could have lost her tonight. They might not have been able to save her in time, and she could have died. And not just this evening, but that first time when she was born too. The doctor had said not many babies live through that IR-thing, and Tina had said that people hadn't expected her to make it. My daughter could have died before I had ever even known about her. She might never have grown up into who she is, and I would never have met her.

"Artie?" I blink and glance over at Tina, who is giving me a concerned look. "Are you okay?"

"Hmm? Yeah, fine," I mumble quickly. She looks sceptical and sympathetic, and I can't figure out why until I feel something touch the corner of my lip. I lift a hand to wipe it away and realise it's warm and wet. It takes about four seconds longer to connect that to the tightness in my throat and the itching in my eyes. I'm crying. I hastily rub my hands over my face to get rid of the tears and then let out a humourless laugh. "Sorry, not sure where that came from. I'm tired."

"Yeah, I know," Tina says with a small smile, but she lets go of Destiny with one hand and reaches over for mine. I hesitate at little at her touch, but this time she only gives it a squeeze and then releases me again. Relief sets in, because I don't want to think about that strange voice in the back of my head that's back again and confusing me.

We slip into the quiet again, and I study Destiny's face in the harsh florescent lighting. With her skin tone lightened that way, she looks even more like an Abrams than before.

"You kept your parents' last name," I say abruptly. Tina looks over in surprise and raises an eyebrow. "Why? They were horrible to you."

Tina gives a dry laugh and shrugs. "I didn't have anything else to be," she says. "I was someone with nothing and no one. If I wasn't a Cohen-Chang, then what was I? It was just easier." As much as I don't like it, her logic makes sense somehow and I nod as I mull it over. "She was going to be an Abrams."

"What?" I ask, lifting my gaze again. Tina stares back, her expression earnest like she's trying to make a point.

"Destiny," she clarifies. "I wanted to name her Abrams. She was a blessing, and I didn't want her to have any link to  _them_. But they told me there would be legal issues; that you would have to be informed if I gave her your name. I – I wasn't ready for that. I wanted to wait until I'd talked to you, and then we could change it later. But after I went home that time, and I thought you – well, after that I kept it the same as mine because it was something we shared. She was all I had; I needed to keep that connection."

I nod, chewing on my bottom lip as I try to fight back the whirlwind in my head. I have spent all this time thinking about how bad this all sucked for me. And that's not wrong because this whole thing has sucked for me and I deserve to be able to acknowledge that.

But at the same time, I've been determinedly avoiding considering just how much this sucked for Tina too. While I can't understand all of what she went through or just why things turned out the way they did, there's no denying that she hasn't lived an easy life either. Being eighteen years old, abandoned by her family and thinking she's been abandoned by her best friend and lover too, and having to start a whole new life for herself, as a single mother to top it all off. Even just one of those things is hard on its own, but all together?

"I want her to be an Abrams now, though." Tina abruptly speaking jerks me forcibly out of my thoughts and I stare over at her in surprise. "I mean if that's okay with you. I just think it will be better for her. The Abrams can be a hundred times more family to her than the Cohen-Changs ever will be."

"You know a hundred times zero is still zero," I point out and Tina almost smiles.

"And you know what I meant," she retorts, rolling her eyes. "I just mean that your family will be good to Destiny. Even if they never forgive me, she's still your daughter, and they'll love her for that. Right?"

"They'll forgive you," I say. Tina shrugs noncommittally. "Lizzie already has."

She looks up in alarm, her eyes widening. "You told her already?"

"You know me; I can't keep anything from her," I say, and Tina relaxes just slightly. "She promptly called me an idiot and then demanded I send her pictures of her new niece." I pointedly leave out the part where she all but told me that I needed to make a move on my ex-but-not-really-ex. My brain is already scrambled enough on that, and I'm trying to keep things from being too tense between us anyway.

"Glad to know she hasn't changed any," Tina says with a small smile. Then it flickers, and she adds, "She's not really the one I'm worried about, though. She was always biased in my favour anyway. Your parents won't be able to just look past what happened so easily."

"Yes they will," I say confidently.

"How can you be so sure?" she asks, half-hysterically.

"Because I've forgiven you." The admission leaves a resonating silence in the room, broken only by the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor on the other side of the bed. We stare at each other for several long seconds until Tina finally seems to find her voice again.

"You – you do?" she asks breathlessly. "Why?"

"It wasn't easy," I admit. "But the more I think about it, the more I realise that there isn't exactly anything to blame on you. And everything that I could pin on you, well, I don't even really feel right doing that either. I've been thinking about it, about how I would've handled things if I had gone through what you did. I don't know if I'd have done it the same, but when I try to look at it from your side, well, I can't really fault you for being scared. That seems like a pretty logical thing to be scared about." I rub at my neck self-consciously again, aware that I've just made a rambling and bizarre speech. Speech giving never really was one of my strong points. To break the awkward silence, I grin and ask, "Forgive me for not hooking up with Brit?"

Tina laughs quietly and rubs at her eyes. "You're such a dork," she says by way of answer. I just smile and lean back in my chair.

"Tell me about her," I say after another few minutes of the quiet. Tina looks over, her confused frown making her nose wrinkle up. I smile at that but continue, "Destiny. What was she like when she was younger? Well, you know, younger than she is now."

"Why?" she asks, but her tone is light and curious.

"We've got to kill time somehow," I point out with a shrug. "The doctor said she could be asleep for at least two more hours, and we both know that neither of us will fall asleep until after she wakes up. And I don't know about you, but just sitting around in the quiet isn't helping my nerves any."

Tina smiles shortly and nods in agreement. "I suppose you need to get caught up at some point. Why not now?" she says as if rationalising to herself. Then she clears her throat and starts, "Her full name is Destiny Elizabeth."

"Oh, Lizzie will be thrilled to hear that…"

Tina smirks but ignores my interruption. "She was born September 6th, 2012. She weighed five pounds and seven ounces and was just barely more than a foot long. She was such a tiny little thing, with her thick black hair and the biggest pair of blue eyes." Her smile slips into something smaller, sadder. "She spent most of her first three months in an incubator, hooked up to breathing tubes."

She pauses to take a shaky breath, and I nearly reach out for her hand before quickly changing my mind. Tonight has already been full of enough uncomfortably intimate moments, I'm not sure we can handle any more strangeness. I disguise the twitch of my hand by picking a piece of lint off the knee of my pyjama pants. If Tina notices, she doesn't comment on it.

"I think that's why she's always been a cuddler," she muses, her expression warming. "She spent all that time alone, separated from much physical contact, so in those few times, she got to be held it was nearly impossible to get her to let go. She used to grab onto my hair whenever I was trying to put her down and wouldn't let go. Even now, she still likes to be near people as much as possible. She's always grabbing hands or climbing in laps or hugging people."

Tina stops talking as a nurse walks into the room. The older woman smiles at us both kindly, and we weakly return it, and then she sets about checking all of the machines around the bed and marking things on the clipboard she's carrying. Neither of us says anything until five minutes later when she finishes and leaves.

"She loves animals too," Tina says like there was no interruption. "Especially ones that she can play with and hug. I want to be able to get her a pet someday, a dog or a cat, but we can't have one where we're living right now." She trails off, staring at Destiny thoughtfully while I try to absorb and process everything she's said. "She loves to dance, but she's about as clumsy as they come. I can't even count how many scraped knees I've had to bandage because she's tripped over her feet. But she never stops, she just keeps getting up and trying again. She's determined, just like her dad."

She glances over at me and I bite my lip, aware that my ears are burning bright red. She smiles but changes the topic. "She never complains about how hard things are for us either," she says, her gaze getting both brighter and more serious. "When the other little kids in the building get new bikes or pretty dolls, she'll ask if she can get some, but when I tell her no, that we can't afford them, she just accepts it without complaint.

"And she's never said anything about how we don't have any family. She knows what real, big families look like; she's seen Grace's family before. But she doesn't complain that she doesn't have grandparents that send her birthday cards or aunts and uncles that bring her candies when they visit. Somehow she just knows how to take things as they are and make the best of them." At this Tina gives me another pointed look and I try to ignore the heat creeping across my neck and cheeks.

"She's some sort of angel," I say with a smile, turning her attention back to the sleeping figure in the bed.

"She is," Tina agrees fervently. "She's always been what keeps me going when it all gets to be too much."

I survey Tina's profile in the flat florescent lighting and once again the changes in her face strike me. The determination in her jaw, the lines around her eyes, the maturity in her gaze. The shy and insecure girl I knew has grown into a woman with the strength and assurance to hold her ground against whatever is thrown into her way.

"You don't have to do this alone anymore, you know that right?" There's an intensity in her stare that seems off-balanced by the hopefulness beneath her eyes. Encouraged, I charge on, "I know you've been doing this alone for all this time, but you don't have to do that now. I'm here now, and I want to help. We're in this together."

Tina tilts her head, shielding her face behind her hair again, and for a moment I'm afraid I've said something wrong. I wait on edge until she looks up. When she does her eyes are watering, but she smiles. "Marvel-DC team-up," she says, and I instantly laugh at the old joke we used in high school, a joke about two geeks joining forces to change the world.

"Exactly," I agree, returning her smile. "The two of us against the world, just like we used to. Just instead of the best friends facing jocks with slushies, we're facing –  _parenthood_." I stop, frowning a little, and then laugh again. "That still feels weird thinking of myself as a parent."

"It takes some getting used to," Tina says with a grin. "You're a good father, though. I always knew you would be." My surprise must be pretty obvious because she continues, "I watched the way you were with Lizzie when she was younger, and I've seen the way you are with Destiny. You're good with her. She absolutely adores you. She'll be sad to see you go."

The pleasant warmth that had been forming in my chest dies quickly at this observation. It's early Wednesday morning, meaning that in just about thirty hours I'll be on a plane back to Chicago. "Oh, right, yeah," I say, distractedly trying to pick at my gloves before remembering I'm not wearing them. "I'll – uh – I'll call a lot, though, if that's all right with you. I mean, we do still need to figure out what we're going to do."

"Of course." The room falls quiet again, and I keep my attention on my hands, rubbing away a bit of the dried blood around one of my knuckles. "Artie?" I look up to find Tina staring at me, her smile soft. "Would you like to – I mean, would you come hold her hand for a while?"

"What?" I ask in surprise, glancing over at where Tina's fingers are wrapped around our daughters.

"It's just, my hand is starting to sweat and it's falling asleep being propped up like this, but I don't want to let her go because I don't want her to feel alone," Tina rambles out quickly, not meeting my eye as her cheeks turn pink. "I just want her to know that there's still someone here, you know. So could you?"

"I – I can try," I say uncertainly. "I'm not sure I can reach."

Tina just smiles and stands up, slipping her hand out of Destiny's. She moves the chair she's been sitting in out of the way and then nudges the back of mine until I take her place. The mattress is at eye level, so when I roll close enough to reach up, I can't see anything more than the blanket. I shoot a tentative look over at Tina but she is busy settling her chair into place, so I slip my hand up onto the bed and search with my fingers. It only takes a couple tries before I find Destiny's hand, little and warm, and when I slide my palm underneath hers, I feel her fingers curl around one of mine.

"Artie, are you okay?" Tina asks quietly. I already know why she's asking and I blink away the tears.

"I'm holding my daughter's hand," I say slowly. "She's in the hospital, and I'm holding her hand so she knows she's not alone. Just like my parents used to do for me." I glance sideways at Tina and manage a small smile. "Thank you."

Tina doesn't respond, but a moment later she takes my free hand and threads her fingers through mine. And suddenly I realise, I'm not doing this alone anymore either.


	21. The Music in the Lyrics

"Lizzie's dating now."

"Really?" Tina asks in surprise. We've been maintaining a pretty steady conversation for a little over two hours now, talking about anything that we can think of to keep the room from getting quiet. "I suppose I should have expected that but it's still hard to believe."

"Yeah," I say, shaking my head. "I mean, she's been out on dates before, but this guy's different. They're actually going steady."

"And you're totally freaking out about it, aren't you?" Tina asks with a knowing grin.

"Well, yeah," I agree. "What kind of name is Drake anyway?"

"Drake like a guy duck?"

"That's exactly what I said," I say, shrugging. "Who names their kid after a duck? It's ridiculous."

Tina laughs. "Artie, I think I remember a time where you wanted to name all of your kids after either members of the Beatles or names from their song titles. You don't really have much room to talk about strange names."

Even though my cheeks are burning, I laugh too. "Whereas you just have a touch for the ironic, symbolic, and dramatic, right?" Tina just smiles and shrugs.

"Daddy?"

My heart jumps up into my throat at the whisper, and I push myself up as well as I can to see over the edge of the bed. All I can see is a vague outline of Destiny's profile, just enough to see that her eyes are still mostly closed but her mouth is open.

"Hey Dee, are you awake?" I ask tentatively.

The corner of Destiny's lip curls upward. "I knowed it's you," she murmurs, tightening her grip around my finger. "Momma's hands are soft, but yours is tough."

Tina lets out a quiet laugh and stands up, reaching over to place her hand on top of Destiny's and mine. "Hey Nee-nee, how are you feeling?"

"Sleepy," Destiny mumbles, her voice hoarse. "And sore. Why am I sleepy and sore?"

"You were sick, but you're going to be okay now," Tina says with a familiar catch in her voice.

"Is this the doctor place?" Destiny asks curiously, her eyes still barely squinted. "'Cause it smells like a doctor place."

I smile around the tightness in my throat. "Yeah, we're at a doctor place," I agree. "But it's okay because the doctors made you better."

Destiny tilts her head to the side, and her narrowed eyes find mine over the edge of the mattress. Her gaze is hopeful. "So now can I go back with you and sing again? Now that I'm all better like you said?"

"We'll see, princess, okay?" I say, squeezing her hand.

Her lower lip pushes out in a pout, and I can't help but smile as she grumbles, "M'kay."

"Look who's awake." All three of us look toward the door. The same doctor that talked to Tina and I earlier is standing in the frame, and he smiles. "Hi there Destiny, how are you?"

"Are you a doctor?" Destiny asks curiously.

"That I am," he says, walking in to stand beside the bed opposite Tina and I. "My name is Dr Ryan, I've been taking care of you. Are you feeling better?"

"My hand hurts," she says, glancing down . I I'm not holding, the one with IVs taped in place. "Can you make the needles go 'way?"

"Sorry honey, not just yet," the doctor says sympathetically. "But really soon, okay? Anything else bothering you?"

Destiny frowns in concentration and then says, "My throat is itchy."

The doctor smiles and holds up a paper cup he is carrying. "I thought you might say that, so I brought along some ice chips for you to suck on," he says and then hands the cup across the bed to Tina. "How does your chest feel? Is it sore?"

"A little," Destiny says with another frown that wrinkles her nose. "But I don't feel like coughing no more. That's good?"

"That's great," he answers. "Well I'm just gonna listen to your breathing for a bit and make sure everything is good, is that okay with you?" When Destiny nods, he pulls a stethoscope from around his neck and places the end against Destiny's chest. I feel a slight tremor in my chair that signals someone has grabbed the handles. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Tina's free hand has a white knuckle grip on the back of my chair.

"Sounds like everything is really good," the doctor says, straightening up. "Your breathing has cleared up and sounds pretty normal now. If you start having any trouble breathing at all, even if it's just a little tickle in your chest, you tell someone, okay? We don't want you getting sick again."

"M'kay doctor," Destiny says with a small smile.

"Alright sweetie, I'll leave you with your family now," the doctor says, and he pats her leg, nods to Tina and me, and then leaves.

"Do you want some of this ice, Nee-nee?" Tina asks and Destiny nods. "Okay. But no chewing, just suck." Destiny slips her hand out of mine to take the cup, and she picks out a piece and puts it in her mouth, sucking on it with a determined look on her face. The room is quiet for a minute as she sucks down through a few chips of ice while Tina and I wait, neither of us knowing what to do with ourselves.

Finally, after a few minutes, I make to pull my hand down off the mattress but I'm stopped by a very cold and wet hand grabbing onto my fingers. "Daddy, you camed to see me just like you promised you would," Destiny says with a smile.

"Of course I did," I say, flipping my hand over and squeezing hers. "I will always keep my promises with you, Dee, you can count on that." Destiny is still grinning, but there's something slightly dazed about it and I recognise the look. She's trying not to doze off. "But you need to get some rest now."

"But you're here," she argues, pouting.

I laugh and from behind me, I hear Tina make a noise that sounds like it's halfway between a laugh and a sob. "And I'll still be here when you wake up. Momma and I both will be, okay? Maybe we can get Momma to sing along with us too," I say and cast a glance up at Tina. Her lip is trembling, but she smiles and nods in agreement.

"I will, but first you need to sleep and get better," she says, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from Destiny's forehead. "So why don't you go back to sleep and we'll see how you feel when you wake up again."

"I'm not tired," Destiny says stubbornly. Tina and I exchange amused glances while Destiny unsuccessfully fights back a yawn.

"Oh, you're not?" I ask with veiled scepticism. "That's good then. You can help your mom and I out."

"How?" Destiny asks eagerly.

"We're having a little disagreement about a song," I say and I catch Tina's smile out of the corner of my eye. "We were trying to decide if it was the prettiest song ever. Why don't I sing it, and you can tell me what you think?"

Destiny seems to think this over for a second and then nods. Smiling, I clear my throat and start singing. " _Moon so bright, night so fine. Keep your heart here with mine. Life's a dream we're dreaming_ …"

Just as I'm starting on the chorus, a second voice joins mine. It's so abrupt that it should surprise me, but somehow it doesn't. Turns out that even after all this time, singing with Tina is still the most natural thing in the world. " _I want to spend my lifetime loving you, if that is all in life I ever do_."

Midway through the second verse, I feel Destiny's grip on my fingers relax. " _Through our joy, through our pain, we can move worlds again. Take my hand, dance with me_." Tina places a hand on my shoulder, and her voice dies off. When I glance up at her, she's smiling. "She's asleep," she whispers.

"That was quick," I say, taking one last glance at our daughter who is now sleeping peacefully. Grinning, I take my weight off my elbows and relax more comfortably into my chair.

"Another trick you learned from your mom?" Tina asks quietly, slipping back into the empty chair next to me.

"Dad, actually," I answer, fighting back a laugh at Tina's expression of surprise. "Whenever I didn't want to go to sleep, he would sing to me until I fell asleep. Although it always took a lot longer with me."

"Probably because your dad's singing sounds like a moose with a head cold," Tina murmurs, laughing under her breath. I raise an eyebrow and she shrugs. "Sorry Artie, but I've heard your dad sing, and that's definitely not where you inherited your talent from."

I have to admit that she's right there, and I nod with a grin. "Dad never had accompaniment, though," I say, giving her a meaningful look. "I wasn't expecting you to join in."

Tina's smile turns sad. "It's our song, our duet. I couldn't let you sing it on your own." I bite my lip and look down at my lap. "Why did you pick it?"

"It was the first slow song that came to mind," I say with a shrug. Honestly, I'm not sure I want to know why that song came to my mind so quickly. That song was the one we were supposed to sing at Nationals our senior year before she disappeared. Trying to change track, I smile and add, "It was either that or that theme song from Titanic."

Tina mock shudders and smiles. "Okay, good choice then," she says. Her expression becomes pensive, and she adds, "Five years without practice and it still sounded pretty good, though, if I say so myself."

"We probably could've taken Nationals with that," I agree with a smile. "Rachel even said so."

"She probably blames the loss on me, huh?" Tina asks, her smile slipping.

I laugh and shake my head as I remember Rachel's speech about it. "You know Rach. She always – okay well, she  _usually_  means well, but things just don't come out the right way with her. Right after you disappeared, she made some comment about horrible timing but thankfully Finn shut her up pretty quick because Mercedes and Kurt were both glaring daggers and I think if she'd finished her sentence it might have ended in an epic catfight. She repented, though, at the after competition party when she dedicated the trophy to you," I finish. Tina's eyes widen. "The whole team missed you; it didn't feel the same performing without you there. They all said so. No one was the same after you left."

"What about you?" Tina asks, and then immediately pales and looks like she regrets saying it. "I'm sorry, you don't have to answer that. I don't know why I asked. I'm sorry."

"You mean what was I like after you were gone?" I ask, keeping my tone emotionless. Tina doesn't answer, but her expression says it all. Putting on a sardonic grin, I shake my head. "You don't want to know. Trust me."

Even though she looks concerned at my answer, she just swallows and nods, silently accepting it. We sit quietly for a few minutes, both of us wrapped up in our own thoughts. I determinedly push away the memories of those days right after Tina vanished, not wanting to think about that time. It was bad enough living it once without having to relive it.

The adrenaline of the night is quickly wearing off and I stretch sleepily before resting my head against the edge of the mattress. I know there's no way I'll actually be able to sleep like this, but there can't be any harm in closing my eyes for a bit. Judging by how quiet it's gotten off to my side, Tina's already asleep. Not that I blame her; my last check of the clock said it's nearly six in the morning. Yawning, I set my glasses in my lap and tilt my head until I find another, more comfortable position. Yeah, I'll just rest my eyes for a little while…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song used in this chapter is "I Want to Spend my Lifetime Loving You," by Marc Anthony and Tina Arena, made famous by "The Mask of Zorro" film.


	22. Distractions Everywhere

"Artie, wake up." I groan and squeeze my eyes shut tighter, trying to shy away from the hand on my arm. Moving my head sends a stiff pain down my neck and through my shoulders, making me groan again. "C'mon, Artie, that can't be good on your back."

I let out an irritated snort and I hear an amused laugh from whoever is hovering so close to my side. A second later, I can smell something warm and familiar that catches my attention. "Coffee?" I mumble hopefully.

"It's just black, but I figure it's better than nothing." Prying my eyes open, I can just make out a blur of white-rimmed black that is hovering a few inches below my face. "I thought you might need some help waking up."

"Hmm, thanks," I say, straightening up and wincing at the stiffness in my back. "Ow, God, how long was I asleep?"

"Not even two hours." I find my glasses in my lap and slip them on, glancing over at Tina as she holds out the coffee cup. "Sorry, I would've let you sleep longer but I know you're supposed to be careful about your back and I didn't want you to hurt yourself."

Why does it not surprise me that, even after five years, she still remembers that I'm supposed to be careful about pressure points while I sleep? It seems like she's remembered everything else, so why not this? I take the coffee from her and take a grateful swallow, grimacing. It's lukewarm and bitter, but it does at least help to clear my head a little bit.

"How is she?" I ask, tilting my head in the direction of the bed since I can't see anything over the edge. "Still sleeping?"

"Out like a light," Tina says with a smile. "She's a heavy sleeper. And pretty impossible to wake up. Wonder where she gets that from."

"Hey, I'm awake, aren't I?" I protest.

Tina snorts. "Yeah, only after I bribed you with coffee."

I smile and shrug, toasting her with the Styrofoam cup. "That just makes me smart."

Tina rolls her eyes at me, her mouth momentarily preoccupied with her own coffee. When she swallows, she says, "You're hopeless."

"Yeah, I've been told that," I say with an unconcerned shrug. "From you, mostly." As Tina laughs, I check the clock. "Do you have to work today?"

"No, I called in and took it off," she says. "One of the other maids is covering my shift and I don't have a show tonight so I'm free all day. Thank God, since I am definitely too tired to think straight."

"Hmm, lucky you," I mutter into my coffee.

"I take it you have to?" she asks with a touch of sympathy in her tone.

"Yeah. I could get out of it if need be, but today is the part of my job that I actually love doing," I explain. "I think as long as she stays good then I should probably go in. Besides, it'll help to stay on my boss' good side as long as possible in case something comes up later."

"What are you doing today?" Tina asks curiously.

"Running a music class at a local elementary school," I admit and Tina's eyes widen. "It's one of the perks of the job. Our company does a lot of work promoting the importance of music to children, so every time I get shipped out somewhere to sit through business meetings, I also get scheduled to do volunteer music classes with schools in the area."

"I bet you enjoy that," she says with a laugh.

"Well it's definitely a lot more enjoyable than spending all day trying to bargain with stuffy music label producers," I say and shrug, but I can't hold back a smile. I regard her thoughtfully for a minute and then ask, "You really do like singing at the hotel, don't you? I know you said you only do it for the extra money, but you really do enjoy it."

Tina smiles self-consciously and shrugs. "Yeah, I suppose so," she says evasively. I give her a knowing look and she blushes a little as she laughs. "Okay, yeah, I like it," she confesses, holding up her free hand in a gesture of surrender. "I like being able to get up on stage and perform again. It feels free. I can stand up there and present the image that I have no concerns in the world besides the music, and when I pretend that's how I am then I feel that way too. It's nice to have that escape again." She smiles and shoots an amused glance at me. "You know it's annoying that you can still figure me out that well."

"Actually you were informed on," I say with a laugh. "Dee told me the other day that you always smile more when you're singing." I hesitate a moment before finishing, "Besides, anyone who's watched you perform could tell."

We settle into a slightly awkward quiet, both of us putting a lot of focus into drinking our coffees so we can avoid talking to each other. When my cup is empty, I groan and stretch, loosening the tight joints in my back just a little. I glance at the clock again and scowl.

"Need to leave soon?" Tina guesses.

"Probably ten minutes ago, considering how long it takes me to get ready," I say, casting an anxious glance up at the bed. "But I told her I'd be here when she wakes up again."

"She'll understand, Artie," Tina says gently. "I'll stay here and let her know where you've gone. And besides, with how tired she's been, she might still be asleep by the time you get back."

I smile appreciatively at her joke and then shoot one more scowl at the clock. Sighing, I carefully slide my hand out of Destiny's lax grip. She grunts in her sleep and her hand fists around the blanket for a moment, but then she relaxes and doesn't wake up. Tina moves her chair so I can get passed, and I hesitate at the end of the bed. "Promise you'll tell her I'll be back as soon as I can be?" I ask, not taking my eyes off my daughter.

"I promise," Tina says and out of the corner of my eye I see her drawing an X over her heart with a finger, making me laugh.

"You've been spending way too much time around little kids," I remark with a sly smirk.

"Yeah, it kind of comes with the territory," she agrees with a smile. "The majority of my social life is spent talking about toys with people who still have a hard time forming a complete sentence. It'll start rubbing off on you soon, you just wait." This time when the quiet follows her statement, it feels companionable. Maybe this being friends for the sake of our daughter thing won't be  _that_  difficult. "Hey Artie," Tina starts abruptly and when I look up at her, her smile is shy but sincere. "I know you came for her, but thank you for being there for me too last night."

"You needed it," I say, shrugging in what I hope looks like a casual way, since my brain is currently whirring in a decidedly un-casual manner. How come every time I think that we can be friends, she has to go and do something that feels like more and sends my heart racing again? "And frankly, so did I."

She surveys me thoughtfully for a moment and then nods. "Have fun at work," she says brightly. "I'll, uh – I'll see you when you get back."

"Call me if anything changes," I say and Tina nods again. I pause a second longer, wondering if there's something more I should say to her, before deciding that I really don't know what else to say. I lift a hand in a short wave, smile, and leave.

Leaving the hospital feels wrong in every way. I know that Destiny is okay, and that it's very unlikely that anything will happen to her while I'm gone. Still while I'm sitting out front waiting for a cab, I seriously consider turning around and going back inside. Only the knowledge that she's not alone stops me from blowing off work all together.

To say that I'm distracted while getting ready would be an understatement. I get all the way to my room before remembering that I needed to stop at the concierge desk and have a car ordered. With that finally done, I go back to my room and start cleaning up, kind of grateful that there are no mirrors low enough for me to see my reflection. Wearing a well-used Rolling Stones tee and flannel pyjama pants, with my hair mussed from my nap and the long night hanging heavy on my face, I can only imagine that I must look terrible. Might explain the alarmed looks I was getting in the lobby.

I manage to shower and get dressed with only a few minor mishaps. It takes a few minutes of hunting to find my gloves, which turn up between the bedside table and the mattress. I hang my acoustic over the handles of my chair, check one more time that I have everything, and then head back out to the lobby. (Not even a full minute later I'm back to grab the cell phone I left on the bed.)

Most of the drive to the elementary school is a blur for me. My brain is torn in half between nodding off and panicking about my daughter, so I am having a hard time focusing on much of anything else. I'm snapped out of an anxious daze when the car stops in front of what looks like just about every other grade school in the country. After getting things sorted out with the driver so he'll be waiting when I get done here, I do another check to make sure I'm not forgetting anything in the car. It looks like I might actually be all accounted for this time. Satisfied, I push myself into the building and towards the front office.

"You must be Mr Abrams," the secretary says when I roll in. "Thank you for coming. The kids are all excited; they've been talking about it all week."

"Thanks for having me," I say, managing a genuine smile. Even with everything else going on, nothing changes the fact that I really do love doing this part of my job most of all. She leads me through the school to a large empty room set off from what smells like the cafeteria, and judging by the fact that the walls and cupboards are decorated with neon coloured music notes tells me that it's supposed to be a music room.

"We'll bring the students in here to you, so you're welcome to set your things up in here however you like," the woman explains. "What little equipment we have is in those back closets, you can use it if you like. Do you need help with anything?"

"No thanks, I think I've got everything I need," I say, shrugging off her not-so-subtle way of glancing from my lowered height to the top shelf of the nearest cupboard and back. It's not like I'm not used to that reaction.

She nods and glances at the clock. "They should be bringing the kindergarten classes down in about ten minutes," she says. "Would you like something to drink while you wait? Water, coffee? I could probably sneak you a milk carton from the cafeteria if you want it."

"Tempting offer, but I'll just have coffee, thanks," I say, laughing, and she smiles warmly at me before leaving. If I wasn't so tired, I would probably be dancing with joy at the promise of some more much-needed caffeine. I'm not sure when I suddenly got so old, but pulling an all-nighter is not as easy as it used to be. Of course, it probably doesn't help that it's about my fourth or fifth ridiculously late night in the last week.

Fifteen minutes later, the room is filled with what must be almost a hundred five- and six-year-olds. One of the teachers is introducing me, and I smile at the attentiveness in all of the kids' faces. When the teacher is finished and turns the time over to me, I lean forward and place my elbows on my knees, lowering myself closer to the kindergartners' level.

"Hey guys," I say and grin when I get a series of mumbled, "hey" in reply with the occasional extroverted "Hi Mr Artie." When the quiet giggles settle, I continue, "So I'm here today to talk to you guys about music. Does anyone know what music is?"

A couple of hands shoot up, and I point to a freckled blonde boy just a few feet in front of me. "Singing," he says pointedly and then beams proudly.

"That's right, singing is a type of music," I agree. "Singing is when you use words to make music. There are other kinds of music too, like the kind you can make with instruments. Do any of you know any instruments? Go ahead and say any of them you can think of."

I'm instantly besieged with a wave of answers, including all of the usuals like piano and drums and guitars. "Wow, you guys know a lot of them," I say and am met with a bunch of bright smiles. "Well I happen to have my favourite instrument here, and I thought maybe we could try out some music and see how you guys like it. Sound like fun?"

While the kids are all nodding, I reach down and pull my guitar out of its case where I'd set it on the floor. Once I have it settled in my lap, I look out and see that all of their eyes have widened. It's an all-too-familiar look of eager excitement that reminds me of a little blue-eyed angel that's currently strung up in a hospital.

Trying to push that thought away, I put on a smile and brush my thumb down the strings to check their sound. One little girl with pigtails lets out an animated squeak and claps her hands in front of her chest, hitting me with another barrage of similarities that make my stomach clench with guilt.

It's going to be a really,  _really_  long day.


	23. Facing Fears

This time when I roll through the automatic doors of the Seattle Children's Hospital I feel only anxiousness instead of outright panic. I've been away from the place for almost eight hours, and although I never got a call from Tina signalling that something had happened, I still feel the need to check. I'm pretty sure that this heavy pressure in my chest isn't going to ease up until I'm through the doors of room two-oh-six again.

The receptionist from the night before is at the front desk again, and she smiles at me kindly as I push myself passed. I manage to summon up the awareness to return the gesture before weaving my way through the crowd of people and into the nearest open lift. Considering that it's the middle of the afternoon, I suppose I shouldn't really be surprised that there are so many more people here now than there were at two in the morning. There were probably more when I left this morning as well, but I was too sidetracked to notice.

On the second floor, I roll out behind a woman in a floral dress and then follow the signs until I find my way back to the right ward. For some reason that even I can't really explain, I take a deep breath before rounding the door frame.

"Daddy!"

The cheerful, if slightly hoarse, voice makes me lift my gaze in surprise. Destiny is propped up in the bed, looking as tiny and worn as before except for the return of her smile. Without conscious knowledge of it, I'm smiling back. "Momma said you'd come back," she says, her grin widening. "I knowed you would. 'Cause you promised."

Pushing myself over to the bed, I pause at the edge and then blink in surprise. The mattress is level with my chest. "Your bed is lower," I say in shock, still trying to process this fact.

"Momma asked the doctors to make it go down," Destiny says. "She said it's 'cause you're short." I bite back a laugh at this comment, but the reality of the situation hits me and makes me feel a bit breathless. "It's 'kay though," she continues, not noticing my distraction. "I'm short too. Tanner saids so, he calls me short lots. See, I'm like you."

"Of course you are, Dee," I answer, grinning as I reach out for her hand. It feels incredibly rewarding to actually be able to do that now. "Where is your mom?"

Destiny lifts her free hand and points to the other side of the bed. "She's sleepy," she says, lowering her voice to a stage whisper. I glance across her and see that Tina is curled up in the same visitor's chair she was in when I left, her legs draped haphazardly over one of the arms and her face pressed into the backrest. My body twinges in sympathy. "She said she wants to stay 'wake 'til you comed back, but she didn't. It's 'kay though. She yawned lots and it maked me sleepy."

I smile and turn back to her. "How are you feeling, Princess?"

"Much gooder," she says with a nod, as if emphasising her point. "I gots bored though 'cause Momma falled asleep. The doctor comed and talked to me a little but he had to go 'way. Can I go 'way with you now? I don't wanna stay here no more, I don't like it."

"Not yet," I say, fighting back the guilt at the hopefulness in her eyes that I've just dashed. "But soon, okay? You can go home soon." Destiny sighs dramatically and slumps back in the pillows, but I watch the way her eyes dull slightly and they flick from one object to another with a tremulous, wide-eyed gaze. It's an expression I recognise personally, the same way I acted when I was hospitalised the first time. She's scared.

Slipping my hand out of hers, I reach down to lock my wheels and then brace my arms on the side of the bed. I push myself up and, on my second attempt, manage to get myself onto the mattress. It takes a minute until I can arrange my body the right way, but when I'm done I'm sitting with my legs hanging a bit awkwardly over the edge of the bed, holding myself up with my arms, so I'm facing Destiny. She just watches me the whole time, silent and curious.

"You know, I'm really proud of you, Dee," I say, and her already rounded eyes widen. "I know this is all really scary, and that hospitals aren't fun at all, but you are being so brave."

A new emotion takes over her eyes as she surveys my face. "Momma says you had to go to hos'pals lots when you were little," she says, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. I can tell she's expecting an affirmation, so I nod. "Was you scared?"

"I was terrified," I answer honestly. "I wasn't near as brave as you. I cried when the doctors poked me with the needles."

"They taked mine out," Destiny says with a small smile, lifting her hand to show me the bandage on the back. She lets her hand drop again, and her expression turns more solemn again. "I'm not brave."

I see the ominous tremble in her lower lip, and I manage to shift my weight to one arm so I can take her hand in mine. "Listen to me, Dee, okay?" It takes her a second to lift her gaze from her lap, and when she does her eyes are watery. "Do you know what being brave is?"

"It's bein' not scared," she mutters sullenly.

"No," I say, and she meets my eyes curiously. "You have to be scared first to be able to be brave. Did you know that?" Destiny wrinkles her nose thoughtfully and shakes her head. "Being brave is when you get scared, but you don't let being scared beat you. And you, the way you've been so strong all day, that's real bravery."

Destiny sniffles and I twist to pull myself up onto the bed further. Once my legs are up, I scoot myself back until I'm propped up beside her against the pillows. She doesn't even wait for me to move my arm, nudging her way underneath it to curl against my side. I wrap my arms around her and I feel her hands clutch at my jumper as she buries her face in the fabric and lets the muffled sobs shake her body.

"I am so, so proud of you, Dee," I murmur, rubbing a hand gently across her back. I can feel something catch in my chest, and my throat is getting thick. "You are so brave every single day, you know that? And you are the most wonderful, perfect little girl a dad could ever ask for." My own eyes are feeling moist now, but Destiny's shaking has eased up, and her breathing is smoothing out. A few minutes later, she is breathing deeply and her grip on my shirt has relaxed. Smiling, I tuck a loose piece of her hair behind her ear and whisper, "I love you, baby girl."

Closing my eyes, I lean my head back against the pillows and take several slow breaths to get myself back under control. I probably shouldn't be up here on the bed, really, but I can tell already that there is no way I am getting down on my own without waking Destiny, which I'm not willing to do. After everything she's been through, she needs the sleep.

Come to think of it, I'm not against the idea of a good nap either…

A dull _thwap_ makes my eyes shoot open sometime later, and I look in the direction of the noise. Tina is pushing herself back into a sitting position, looking wide-eyed and alert as if she'd been woken suddenly. It takes her a minute of blinking owlishly before her eyes land on me. "Morning," I whisper with a small smile.

"Is it morning?" she asks in alarm, glancing at the window.

Trying to repress my laughter so the motion doesn't wake Destiny, I shake my head. "No, sorry, just an expression," I explain and glance at my watch. "It's just after five now."

"Oh, okay." Tina drags a hand back through her hair, wincing as her fingers catch in tangles. "How long have you been here?"

"Just about an hour, I think," I say. "Work ran later than I expected."

Tina nods, and then her eyes slip down to the little ball of messy dark hair and pink pyjamas that is Destiny. "How is she?"

"Tired," I say with a small smile. "She said she's feeling better, but she feels a little warm to me."

"The doctor says her fever is back," she says, and beneath her neutral expression, I can see the anxiety. "They've got her lungs under control, but she's still got that pneumonia, and he says there's not really much to do but let it run its course. The medication they had her on to stabilise her lungs had brought the fever down, but now that she's finished those he says it's natural that it'll go back up again." She stares at Destiny for a minute before she lets her eyes flick up to me. "How'd she convince you to get up into the bed with her?" she asks with a smile.

"She was scared," I explain, and Tina's smile drops. "I mean, what kid isn't in a hospital? I think she'll be okay now, but I'm sort of stuck."

"Need a hand?" Tina offers, and when I nod, she stands up and walks around to my side of the bed. It takes a couple minutes of awkward disentangling, but by some miracle, we manage to get Destiny curled up on her own and me back into my chair without waking her.

Tina perches herself on the corner of the bed, facing me, and I watch as she stretches her sore muscles. When her hair falls into her face, she makes an impatient noise and quickly sweeps it into a messy ponytail, but all this does is reveal her face more clearly so I can see how tired she looks. "I'll stay with her," I say, and Tina's brow furrows in confusion. "Go home."

"What? No, I'm okay," Tina says hastily, shaking her head.

"You're still wearing your pyjamas," I point out. Tina tugs at the hem of her vest top self-consciously but doesn't answer. "You've been sitting in that chair for over twelve hours, and you look exhausted. Have you even eaten anything today?"

"Have you?" she shoots back defensively.

"Yes," I answer firmly. "I ate. And showered. And got dressed." She looks away, staring at anything but Destiny and me. "Tina, I know how hard this is for you, dealing with all of this, but –"

"Do you?"

Inside I recoil at the bite in her tone, but I force myself not to react. "Yeah, I do," I say flatly. "You aren't her only parent, you know. I haven't been able to focus on anything all day today because my brain is so caught up with her. I flubbed a note while playing  _Twinkle, Twinkle_." She fights not to show it, but I notice the faint sympathetic wince. "But I've been through this sort of thing before with my family, and as hard as it is to do it, you've got to take care of yourself too. Letting yourself get sick won't help her get better, and seeing it will only make her feel worse. I would know."

The hostility fades from Tina's posture. "Your mom?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"She rarely left my room after the accident, even though for those first couple weeks I was on so much pain medication that I wasn't lucid enough to know she was even there. She slept in a chair, on the few occasions when she did sleep. She would go days without a real meal. She only left the hospital once a day to check in on Jack and Liz, and then she was right back at my bedside. By the time they weaned me off the drugs so I could understand what was going on around me, she looked like a corpse."

I pause, clearing my throat because it's starting to feel thick. "I was afraid of looking at my own mom. Even with what little conscious thought I had at that point, I knew that I was the reason she looked like that. I stressed so badly about it that I stopped getting better. It made her feel worse that I wasn't getting better, and she left me even less. Not even three days after I was conscious, she was in a hospital bed too. Exhaustion and malnourishment. She passed out in my room, right in front of me."

"Artie, I won't –"

"No, Tina, listen to me," I say firmly, and she is so surprised she complies. "You are already stressed enough as it is with, well, everything else we've got going on. I know you haven't been sleeping much lately because neither have I. You already look like you are on the verge of hitting the floor. And she can tell, you know."

"I don't want to leave her here," Tina mutters and her voice sounds choked.

"And you think I did?" I ask rhetorically. "It's not an easy thing to do and I know that. I spent all day wanting nothing more than to turn around and just rush right back in here. But in the end, you do what you have to do. For her. Just like you always have done."

There's a heavy silence hanging in the room while I watch Tina and she stares at her hands in her lap. I can tell by the way her shoulders are shaking that she's trying not to cry. Two long minutes later, she lifts her head and her expression is determinedly composed. "If anything happens, anything at all –"

"I'll call," I finish for her. "I know, Tee."

Something in her eyes suddenly lights and I lift an eyebrow questioningly. "Nothing. It's nothing," she says quickly, and then her cheeks colour slightly and she adds, "It's just - that's the first time you've called me Tee."

"Is it?" I ask off-handedly. I'm honestly well-aware of that fact. That nickname was one I reserved solely for my best friend, one that I have been resisting saying all week. My tongue finally slipped. "Sorry, I didn't mean–"

"No, it's fine," she says quickly, cutting across me. "It was just – a surprise." She brushes her hands over her cheeks, wiping away the last traces of silent tears, and then stands up. "I won't be long. Do you need anything while I'm gone?"

"I came prepared this time," I say, gesturing over my shoulder at the faded backpack hanging over the back of my chair. "Although if you happen to know some way to get coffee that doesn't come from a waiting room, I wouldn't say no to that."

Tina smiles. "I'll see what I can wrangle up," she says. She walks around to grab her bag from beneath the chair she was sleeping in, kisses Destiny's forehead, surprises me with a hug, and then leaves with one last promise to be back soon. I watch the doorway until I can't see her anymore, and then I relax back into my chair.

How am I supposed to simply get on a plane and go home tomorrow morning when my daughter is in the hospital? This is ridiculous. I know that she's not actually very sick now, but that part doesn't really matter. Whether it's a cold or cancer, she's still my daughter. And I'm supposed to just leave?

Gritting my teeth, I dig my cell phone out of my backpack and scroll the numbers until I find the right one. Moving into the far corner of the room so I'm less likely to disturb Destiny, I press the talk button. It takes a minute for the other end to pick up, and when he does I'm met with a familiar robotic greeting. "Hi Paul, it's Artie Abrams," I say.

"Artie, what are you calling for? Something fall through with one of those contracts?" my boss, Paul, says in a panic.

"No, it's nothing about that," I explain quickly. "I was just calling because I'm not going to be flying back in tomorrow. I'm going to need some time off."

"What? No. I need you for that conference in Detroit next week," Paul says.

"I'm sorry, I can't. But Juliette will do a great job. She's just as good as I am."

"No, Artie, she's not," Paul replies irritably. "You are the best we have and this is a very important deal for us."

"You know that I would never flake out on you unless it were something crucial," I say.

"What's happened to you up there, Artie?" Paul asks, and this time I can hear the concern in his voice.

I hesitate, wondering just how much I should tell him. "It's a family emergency," I say in a defeated voice. "She's really sick and I don't want to leave her until she's better. Please, Paul, trust me on this."

There's a long pause on the other end of the line, and then Paul sighs heavily into the phone. "Okay, Artie, I'll go with it this time," he says. "But when you get back I expect a much better explanation for jeopardising our Detroit contract. Got it?"

"Thanks, Paul, I really appreciate this," I say, letting out a breath of relief. We talk just a little bit longer to finalise all the details he needs to pass on to Juliette so she can take my place, and then I hang up. I take a minute to unwind the tension and look over at the bed. Destiny is still fast asleep, her hand fisted around the edge of the blanket and wearing a faint smile beneath the oxygen tube taped under her nose.

"One down," I murmur to myself, and then I start searching through my contacts list again. When I reach the one I need, I feel my heart start thumping doubly hard. "Man up, Abrams, no more procrastinating," I say and then dial the new number.

This time the wait for an answer feels so much longer, each new dial-tone sounding louder in my ear. It takes focus to keep my breathing from picking up while I wait. Maybe there won't be an answer. Then at least I won't feel like I'm being a complete coward. Then I can say I tried, at least. That way –

"Hi, Sport. We weren't expecting you to call again before you got back."

"Hey, Dad," I say, feeling a surge of nerves and guilt sweeping through me at my dad's cheerful tone. I wonder how long that happiness at hearing from his son will last? "Can you get Mom on the other line? There's, uh – there's something I need to talk to you both about."


	24. Stormy Horizons

I lift my head from the cradle of my arms when I hear footsteps approaching me from behind. Snatching my glasses off the mattress, I twist in my chair to look over my shoulder. Tina, dressed in red plaid pants and a loose black hoodie that makes her look more relaxed than I think I've seen her so far, smiles at me from the doorway.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" she asks quietly.

"Nah, I wasn't asleep," I say, shrugging and straightening up in my chair. She walks around me to sink down into the plastic visitor's chair, stowing her bag out of the way beneath the seat. "You look better," I remark, taking in her more composed appearance.

Tina's cheeks turn red and she shrugs. "Yeah, maybe," she says evasively. When she looks up and realises I'm still watching her, she smiles. "Okay, so maybe you were right. It sucked, but I feel better now. Don't go getting a big head about it." I laugh, grinning smugly before relaxing back into my chair and dragging a hand through my hair. "But you, on the other hand, look worse," she says suddenly, and I see her expression soften into concern. "Are you okay?"

I shrug, but I'm smiling and I can feel it. "I just spent the last two hours explaining to my parents that they're grandparents again," I say by way of answer.

"How'd that go?" she asks, and I can hear the fear in her voice.

"I'm not really sure," I admit with a short laugh. "Dad didn't actually say much, and it was sort of difficult to tell what Mom was saying since she was talking so fast. But I'm pretty sure I heard something about never being happier in her life, and then not three seconds later I  _think_  she told me I was grounded."

"Grounded?" Tina asks, raising an eyebrow and smiling.

"Yeah, that's what I said too," I say with another laugh. "Apparently even five years later, when Mom finds out you knocked up your seventeen-year-old girlfriend then you still have to face the punishment." I shrug and think back over the conversation. "I got a whole lot of grief about it, about not learning from my brother's mistakes and how I should have been more responsible. Once she'd run her thrill with that, though, it sounded like she's actually really excited." I hesitate and glance up at Tina before adding, "And she's really glad you're not, you know,  _dead_."

"She said that?" she asks in awe. "I thought she'd be mad at me, for what I did."

"Not in the slightest, by the sounds of it," I say reassuringly, and her posture visibly loosens. "I'm in way more trouble than you are, and since she's forgiven me already, you are easily in the clear. Although if she ever chances across your parents again, I really fear for anyone who gets in her way."

Tina smiles again, but her eyes are looking moist. "I can believe it, I've seen her temper before," she agrees, and I nod, remembering. It wasn't likely anyone in the Glee club could forget the time when my mom saw Mrs Fabray coming into our invitational the year after Holly was born. The lecture my mom gave her about abandoning her child in her time of greatest need and then trying to sneak back into her life as if nothing had happened, well, it was legendary. Mercedes nicknamed her Mama Bear after that, and the rest of the team picked up on it too.

"I'm sorry you had to do it," she says, and I glance across at her curiously. "I should have been the one who had to tell your parents. I'm the one that caused this mess."

For a minute all I can do is stare at her, and I only snap out of it when she squirms uncomfortably. "You're saying it like it's some sort of punishment," I say in disbelief. Tina arches a sceptical eyebrow. "So it might not have been the typical way of doing it, and it definitely wasn't under circumstances that could be called normal by any stretch of the imagination. But I just told my parents that I'm a father.  _Me_. A  _father_. That's something I never thought I'd get to do." I pause, and then smile and add teasingly, "And I don't even care that it apparently got me grounded."

Tina laughs, but her eyes are looking incredibly bright. "You always manage to make the best of everything, don't you?" she asks, and another laugh escapes. "I keep thinking you've changed so much, and then you do something like this and you're the same old Artie."

I bite my lower lip, shifting uncomfortably. It's the statements like this that make me feel uneasy because they feel far too – intimate. "Yeah well, it's the only way a guy like me can survive," I say and manage a smile. "Some things, the important things anyway, they don't change."

"That's good to know," she murmurs in the direction of her lap. Even from this angle, I can see the moment she composes herself again, and a smile breaks out on her face. "So does that mean you're still a closet boy band fan too?"

"Shh, don't say that where people can hear," I say in mock alarm, looking around to check that there is no one nearby. When I'm sure the only other person within earshot in Destiny, who's still fast asleep, I turn back to Tina. She has a mischievous grin on but quickly tries to assume an innocent expression when she sees me looking. I can feel my neck and ears burning even as I try not to laugh. "And yes, to answer your question, I might still own a couple of those CDs," I say. She doesn't even fight her smile this time. "Those white boys had soul."

Tina snorts and indulges me with a sarcastic, "Ri- _ight_." Destiny grumbles in her sleep and both of us look over, but she doesn't wake. "When do you leave tomorrow?"

"I don't." She looks over at me so quickly that I swear I hear the vertebrae in her neck crack. "I'm going to stick around for a few more days."

"But your work –"

"I called in a favour," I explain. "I talked to my boss earlier and told him that I needed some time off."

"Artie, you didn't have to do that," Tina says, looking guilty.

"Yes, Tee, I did," I say simply. "Parents are there for their kids. Well, good parents anyway. I know I've only been a dad for a couple of days now, but I'm going to do it right. I can't leave while she's in the hospital. Work can wait. Family always comes first."

There's something deeply appreciative in her gaze, even as she laughs and rolls her eyes. "Some messed up family we are," she jokes.

Smiling, I play along. "Well I didn't say we were  _normal_ ," I point out. "That doesn't mean we aren't still a family." I shrug and add, "Besides, when has either of us ever been considered normal? It's just not how we roll."

"Okay," Tina says, laughing as she lifts her hands in surrender. "Fine, you've got a point there." She pulls her legs up onto the chair, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin on her knees. "Still, I'm glad that out of anyone I could have had to go through all of this with, it's you."

I regard her for a moment, trying to decide just how to respond to that. I end up falling back on my old standby. "Cheesy much?" I ask with a grin.

"Yeah, maybe," she agrees. "Although I'm not sure how to take that from a guy who once used a pick-up line from Harry Potter."

"Hey, it was a good line," I say defensively, fighting back my laughter enough to be able to speak. "And you recognised that's where the line was from, so you are just as much a nerd as me."

Tina raises an eyebrow. "Are we really going to have the 'who's the bigger nerd' argument again?" she asks, and I see her eyeing me appraisingly. "You're wearing a  _cardigan_. This time you would definitely lose."

"It's cold," I mutter, shrugging and fingering the buttons on my jumper. She laughs but just nods and lets the conversation drop. A few seconds later I glance over at her and she's still smiling. I can't help but return the gesture. Things might be insanely confusing between us, but there is no denying that I'm enjoying this playful bantering again. It never seemed to work quite as well with any of my other friends, none of them understood my humour as well as she did.  _Does_.

The quiet in the room is broken when a loud pattering comes from the window. Both of us look over, and I grimace when I recognise the sound. It's storming again. Of course.

"I hate the rain."

I blink in surprise and look over at Tina, who is staring at the rain-spattered window in an oddly distracted way. Those were the exact words I was thinking, but I certainly hadn't expected them to ever come out of her mouth. "Really?" I ask. "How do you live in Seattle and hate the rain?"

Tina laughs and shrugs. "It's one of those things you just learn to live with," she says unconcernedly.

"Okay let me rephrase then," I start again, "how do you live with Grace and hate the rain?"

"She gave you the 'rain is misinterpreted and really not about gloom and doom' speech?" she asks with a raised eyebrow. I grin and nod. "That part is actually worse than the rain is. She has absolutely zero fear about giving out her opinions. I've gotten to the point where I try not to even say the word 'rain' at home in case she takes what I say the wrong way and starts lecturing."

"So what changed?" I ask curiously. "I vividly remember you used to drag me outside every time we had a big storm at home."

Tina smiles fondly. "Yeah, whenever there was lightning. I liked watching it, it was always so pretty. But we don't get big, impressive storms like that around here. Here it just rains. Constantly. I miss the way the weather is supposed to change with the seasons." She shrugs, but I can tell by the look on her face that she's considering saying more. "And it's sort of like – have you ever had that feeling where even though something is completely unrelated to something bad that happened to you, still every time you see that thing it reminds you? You know, kind of like you told me that one time about how you are with orange soda."

I bite my lip and nod, knowing exactly what she's talking about. I was drinking an orange soda when my mom and I were in the wreck and it spilt all over me, so while I was laying there waiting for the paramedics, all I could smell was that drink. Ever since that day, I haven't been able to swallow even a sip of an orange soda because every time I smell it, I think of that horrible day.

"You know what I mean, don't you?" she asks hopefully.

"Yeah, I think I do," I answer with an expression of forced calm.  _Better than you think._

"The rain was just a coincidence, but every time I look out at it, I think of bad things, and it makes it hard for me to really appreciate it anymore," she finishes, turning her gaze down to stare at her knees. I take a moment to look away and compose myself, hiding away the turmoil in my head. What are the odds that rain reminds us of the same bad thing? The same bad day? Or does she have a different memory connected to the rain that has nothing to do with me? Do I even want to know?

"It was raining that day," I murmur. I don't look up from my hands, but I can feel Tina's eyes on me now. "The day you disappeared. It was the first real rain of the season."

There's a heavy silence and then: "I know." Her words are so filled with weight that there's no doubt that this was what she was thinking about. Seeing the rain reminds her of the day we were torn apart, just like it does for me. Something in my chest feels tight and uncomfortable, and I find I can't make myself look up at her.

Even if I don't agree with her, Grace's words fill my head again.

_Rain…wipes away all the bad things and leaves the world clean and fresh… There's always a chance to start anew._

Is there always a chance? Does that apply to everything? Can anything be wiped clean of all the bad memories and given an opportunity to start all over again? I tentatively lift my gaze and meet Tina's dark eyes. My stomach lurches and I quickly look away, because I recognise both that feeling and the look in her eyes.

And it's really not something we need to add to the list of things we already have to worry about.


	25. Into the Night

Over the next few days, Tina and I settle into a sort of routine. We alternate shifts at the hospital so that we both have the chance to sleep on a real bed and eat something that doesn't come from the canteen, while Destiny is never left alone. After that first day, Tina has to go back to work again, so after her night shows end we both end up spending our evenings lounging in the hospital room since neither of us can bear the idea of leaving Destiny at night.

"Hi, Artie." If I hadn't heard the sound of her shoes on the linoleum, I would've jumped at her appearance. "How is she?"

"Sleeping again," I answer, lifting my head as she slips into the chair next to me. She's still wearing her dress and heels, meaning she came here directly after finishing her show. "Her coughing was getting a bit rough again, so the doctor came by and gave her some of that medication; it put her right out."

"Well at least she can stay awake for longer now," she says. I nod in agreement. Destiny has spent most of the last couple days sleeping, barely staying awake for more than an hour or two before drifting off again. The doctor says it's her body's way of dealing with the pneumonia and that the closer she gets to being better, the less she'll need to sleep. Being awake for just over six consecutive hours today is her new record.

"So, what's the special occasion?" I ask with a smile, eyeing her dress.

Tina smirks and rolls her eyes. "Jeffrey cornered me after the show to list off everything I'd done wrong and what I need to work on before tomorrow night. It took so long I was in a hurry to leave, and I forgot my change of clothes in the dressing room. I was nearly here before I realised it, but it wasn't worth the risk to go back. He might've caught me and tried to finish his lecture."

"You could've gone home," I point out. Tina opens her mouth, pauses thoughtfully, and then shrugs.

"I was in a hurry," she repeats unconcernedly even as her cheeks take on a pinkish tinge.

"Well, either way, you look nice," I add. She mumbles an embarrassed thanks, adjusting the shoulder strap of her dress self-consciously. We sit in the quiet for a minute until I find a way to diffuse the awkwardness. "What about me? Don't I look nice?" I ask in mock offence.

She laughs and, after appraising me for a second, she shakes her head. "Sorry Artie, but you just kind of look like someone who's been sleeping in a hospital chair for the last twelve hours."

I grin and casually try to comb my hair down with my fingers. "At least I'm not misleading anyone," I say with a shrug. "I like to keep it real." She smiles, and I can tell by the way she tilts her head down and wrinkles her nose that she's trying not to laugh at me. "Laugh, Tina, it's healthy," I say in a stage whisper. Her laughter escapes in the form of a very unladylike snort that I can't help but laugh at.

A few minutes later I notice that she's trying to settle herself more comfortably into her chair subtly, but it's apparently much harder to do in a dress. After shifting through several different positions slowly and in overly-emphasised casualness, she finally gives up with a sigh, straightening up again and crossing her legs.

Smiling, I roll closer and then pat my knee. "Feet up," I say in response to her questioning look. "It's about as close to comfortable as you'll get sitting in that chair in that dress."

"Oh no, it's okay, I'm fine. And don't give me that look," she adds when I smirk and raise an eyebrow sceptically. "Really, it's fine. I don't want to–"

"If you finish that sentence with 'hurt you' I'm going to roll over your toes," I interrupt with a laugh.

"I wasn't going to," she says defensively. "I was going to say that I don't want to use you like furniture, actually."

"Why not? Everyone else does," I point out. "You never used to have a problem with it. I even do it, or well I attempt to. I still need two more of these," I say, patting my legs, "before I can make a sturdy table, but I work with what I've got."

She laughs, shaking her head. "You know, I really hate how you can do that," she says, giving me a pointed look. I widen my eyes, trying to look confused and innocent. "Alright fine, but I swear if you try to tickle me, I will kick you where I know it will hurt."

"Oh, that's low," I say, fighting back a smile. "C'mon, do you think I would stage some huge act of kindness just so I could tickle your feet?" She mumbles something that sounds distinctly like "wouldn't be the first time," under her breath. "Ouch, Tee, have a little faith in me, would you? We're grown-ups now."

"You know the fact that you just called us 'grown-ups' seriously makes me doubt that fact," she says, shooting a smile at me before she leans over. I follow the movement and see that she's undoing the little buckles on her silver heels, slipping her feet out of them. She stows her shoes beneath her chair and then sits up again. I can see her watching me, as if waiting for some signal, and I smile as I lift my hands out of my lap and over my head. She's trying not to laugh at me as she lifts her feet up into the space I just cleared.

"Told you I wouldn't bite," I say under my breath as I adjust my chair just slightly so her ankle isn't pressed against the armrest and then put on the brakes. Her answer comes out garbled beneath a laugh, but I'm pretty sure she calls me a smart ass.

"If the doctor comes in, could you maybe cover my feet with your arm?" Tina asks, glancing past me at the door and then back. "I'm pretty sure there are rules about bare feet in hospitals."

"I think he'd cut you some slack once he got a look at those monster heels," I say, looking down at them and shaking my head. "I will never understand women and the lengths to which they will go to look hot. I mean honestly, how do you walk in those? Those heels must be almost four inches. My feet are aching just looking at them, and I can't even _feel_ my feet."

"Yeah, well, you used to say the same thing about my boots too, and those didn't have heels," she says with a non-committal shrug.

"Well, that's because your boots weighed a tonne," I answer. " _Each_. It left that huge bruise when you threw one at me, remember."

"You deserved it for saying I throw like a girl."

"You  _are_  a girl," I say in exasperation. "It was meant as a compliment." She just smiles at me and then crosses one of her ankles over the other. I roll my eyes, but by the time I've looked back at her she has her head tilted back onto the back of the chair and her eyes are closed. The smile on her face gradually slackens as she falls asleep.

I awkwardly try to find a place to set my left arm before finally giving up and just letting it drape over her ankles. Propping my other elbow on my armrest, I rest my cheek in my palm and close my eyes.

* * *

I wake up abruptly as my face slips off my hand and I quickly stifle my yelp of surprise. There's a quiet gasp, and when I look up, it's to see another face hovering only inches from mine. Suddenly there is a pair of impossibly dark eyes staring straight back at me, so close that I can see the flecks of gold near the centre that most people don't even know are there. My breath catches in my throat.

"Um, good morning," Tina stammers, and she flashes a hesitant smile.

"Morning," I echo, more out of reflex than anything.

"Sorry," she says and quickly leans back, putting some distance between our faces. It's only as she takes them away that I notice her hands were gripping my left forearm. "I was trying not to wake you, but I guess I tipped your balance."

"What?" I finally break the staring contest to look down, and I realise my arm still has her ankles practically pinned to my lap. "Oh, right, sorry." I lift my arm, and she slips her feet down, flexing her toes.

"Sorry again about being all up in your face," she says, not meeting my eyes. "It probably looked weird. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to completely freak you out."

"No, it's fine, don't worry," I say, waving a hand dismissively even as my heartbeat continues to pound in my ears. I look around the room, a little surprised to see how light it is. "What time is it?"

"Just about eight," Tina answers and when I turn to her in shock she smiles. "Yeah, we slept for more than six hours."

"Hmm, so that's what a full night's sleep feels like," I say in amusement, and she laughs.

"It's been a while since either of us has had one of those, hasn't it?"

"Do you ever get one?" I ask curiously. "I mean, with your schedule it seems impossible, working one job late into the night and then the other early in the morning. And then you've got the kids in the middle of the day. Wow, do you ever have time to sleep at all?"

She smiles and shrugs, her response postponed as she yawns and stretches. "You learn to utilise nap time," she finally says and shrugs again. "I only get a whole night to sleep on my days off. It's okay, though, I never was much of a sleeper. Unlike someone else."

"I like to sleep," I say unconcernedly.

"Do you get to, what with all of your cruising around the country?" she asks. "Don't all the time changes cut into your schedule?"

"You make me sound like some fabulous jet-setter," I remark, laughing. "It's nowhere near as glamorous as 'cruising,' that's for sure. More like a lot of horrendously terrible aeroplane trips. I don't have much trouble sleeping, though. You know me, I've always been good at falling asleep any time, any place. The only time it was ever really bad was the trip to China I took last year. That time change was brutal."

"You went to China?" Tina asks with wide eyes.

"Once, and it was awful. Every city in that country is packed to the bursting point with people. It was a nightmare trying to manoeuvre down the pavements without running into or being run over by someone. And it's humiliating going into a business meeting with a black eye from taking an elbow to the face outside the building."

I grimace at the memory, but before I can say anything more I hear a short knock from behind me, and I curiously glance back over my shoulder. Destiny's doctor is standing in the doorway and he smiles. "I thought I would find you here," he says brightly. "Good morning."

"Good morning," both Tina and I answer together.

"Still sleeping, is she?" he asks, glancing at the bed. "That's good." He makes a quick mark on the clipboard he's carrying and then walks over to stand in front of Tina and me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her tuck her crossed ankles beneath her chair, trying to hide her bare feet away, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing.

"She's healing up really well," the doctor says. "We're going to go ahead and move her out of intensive care today and observe her in a regular wing. If everything stays well through the night, we can release her to go home tomorrow."

"Really?" Tina asks, her eyes lighting up. I'm too dumbstruck to speak. Finally, after almost a week in the hospital that has felt so much longer than that, Destiny might be able to leave. "Thank you," she says, and I can hear the relief in her voice. Even though we all know that Destiny is okay now, that there is nothing life-threatening going on, hearing that she is safe to leave the hospital feels like having an enormous weight lifted off my shoulders.

"Alright, well a nurse will come by to prep her for transfer once she wakes up," the doctor continues. "I'll be by to check on her once she's settled and I can answer any more questions you have then. Oh, and observation room visiting hours run from seven in the morning to eight at night. Good day." He's out of the door before this information has processed, and when it does, Tina and I exchange wide-eyed glances.

"Visitation hours?" Tina asks breathlessly. I just stare numbly. Of course, why hadn't this occurred to me before? When there is no legitimate danger to life, patient rooms are given limited visiting hours. For the first time since Destiny was admitted, Tina and I are both going to have to leave for the night. Meaning that tonight, for her last night in the hospital, Destiny is going to be all alone.

Letting my head drop into my hand, I let out a sigh. "It's going to be a  _really_  long night."


	26. Sleeping with Angels

"You can't feel that not at all?" Destiny asks in awe, prodding the side of my leg with her finger. She's wearing a look of such intent fascination that it takes everything I have not to laugh.

"Nope, nothing," I answer, and she looks up at me with those wide eyes. "I can't feel anything below about right here," I explain, touching the top ridge of my hipbone where I can still feel. She curiously pokes the same spot, and when I shy away with a muffled laugh, she grins and leans against my side. Smiling, I loop my arm around her shoulders, and her hand closes around two of my fingers.

"Daddy," she starts quietly, and I can tell immediately that it must be serious because there isn't any of the familiar brightness in her tone. "Now that I'm all better you're gonna go 'way again, huh?"

The heartbreak in her voice makes my chest feel incredibly tight. Pulling her closer, I lean down and press a kiss into her hair. "Honestly, Dee, I don't know," I admit wearily. "I'm not sure what I'm doing anymore. I need to go home, I have to go back to work, and I'm supposed to go stay with my family for your Aunt Lizzie's birthday and the Fourth of July. But I really want to stay with you."

"Can I go home with you?" she asks, tilting her head back to look up at me hopefully.

"I wish you could," I say, and my eyes start to itch when her expression falls. "But your mom needs you to stay here and take care of her."

"I don't want you to go." Destiny's lip begins trembling and she buries her face in my side, wrapping her little arms around me as far as they'll go. I draw my arms tighter around her, carefully lifting her into my lap and holding her against my chest while the burning in my eyes gets worse.

"I know, Dee, I don't want to go either," I murmur into her hair. "But I'm still going to be here for a couple more days, and I promise you we'll get something figured out before I leave. Okay?"

"Pwomise?" she asks into my shirt.

"I promise," I repeat. She pulls back to stare up at my face, scrutinising me with her watery eyes, and then, very seriously, she draws an X over her chest with her finger. Trying to keep my expression straight, I copy her. "Cross my heart, Dee, I promise it," I finish.

"M'kay," she mutters glumly, laying her head down against my chest again.

"Does that mean I get to see another smile now?" I ask. Destiny just shrugs. "Oh c'mon, don't make me tickle it out of you." She giggles but doesn't move. "Okay fine, you asked for it."

"Daddy!" Her protest is broken up with laughter as she tries to writhe out of my grip, grabbing one of my wrists with both of her hands in an attempt to stop me.

"Will you give me a smile?" I ask.

"Okay," she gasps out. I move my hands away from her sides and she sits up, folding her arms over her chest. For a moment I think she's not going to do anything, and then suddenly she breaks out a smile, the one so big it wrinkles her nose and reduces her eyes to slits.

"That's my girl," I say approvingly, and when I open my arms, she practically tumbles into them, giggling. Over the top of her head, I see a nurse stop in the doorframe, and she gives me a pointed look. Stomach plummeting, I glance up at the clock above the door. Eight o'clock. Time to go.

"Okay princess, it's bedtime," I say.

"I don't wanna," she replies stubbornly, looking up at me and sticking out her bottom lip.

"No, but you've got to," I say, smiling. "You need to get some sleep so you're all ready to go home tomorrow. Your mom and I will be back here in the morning, and then maybe we can convince Mom we should get some ice cream. Sound like a deal?"

"Do you gotta go?" she asks, her hands gripping at my forearms like she can keep me here as long as she doesn't let go. "I don't wanna stay here 'lone."

The desperation and fear in her eyes break down my resolution, but at the same time, I'm hit with the stroke of inspiration. "Want to know my secret to how I never feel alone?" I ask, and she nods, her eyes widening curiously. I reach beneath my shirt collar and pull out the silver saint medallion. "Do you see the person on my necklace? His name is Jude, and he's an angel."

"A real angel?" she asks in awe, reaching out and touching the pendant.

"Yep, and a saint too," I say. "And when I wear this it reminds me that I am never alone because there's always an angel watching out for me." I lift the chain off my neck and hang it around hers. It's so long on her that the medal hangs all the way down to her stomach. "I think for tonight the angel should stay here and keep you company."

"Really?"

I smile and nod. "So now even if this place is kind of scary, you don't have to be afraid because there's an angel to protect you until I get back." She stares down at the pendant and then smiles at me. "Okay Dee, I've got to go. Come give me kisses."

She leans forward to wrap her arms around my neck, and then she kisses both of my cheeks and the tip of my nose. I smile at the cute gesture and then copy it, making her giggle and crinkle her nose when I kiss it. "Love you, Daddy," she says, hugging me again.

"I love you too, Dee," I say. When she grudgingly slips off my lap, I move myself to the edge of the bed and carefully lower myself into my chair. "Alright, under the covers," I say, and Destiny slides underneath them, settling down into the pillow. I reach up and drag the blanket up to her chest.

"Don't forget Momma's bag," she says suddenly, pointing over to the visitor's chair where Tina left her bag in her hurry to get to work. After the effort of going back to the hotel today to get it, she just ended up leaving it here. I'd been laughing when I sent her the text message letting her know I would have it so she could get it from me after her show.

"Okay, I've got it," I assure her, pushing myself over and heaving the bag into my lap. Once it's balanced, I turn and head for the door, pausing and turning around in the frame. Destiny is curled in the bed, one arm tucked beneath the pillow and the other hand curled around my medallion. "Goodnight, Princess."

She smiles and snuggles down further into the blankets. "Night, Daddy."

* * *

I look up from my phone when I hear a knock at the door. "If that's you, Tee, the door's unlocked," I shout in the direction of the door as I twist to set the phone on the bedside table.

The handle swivels and Tina steps into the room, and I take a second to admire the way she looks in her navy blue dress. "So if I'd been anyone else, the door wouldn't have opened?" she asks teasingly.

"Yeah, it's one of those magical doors," I answer, trying to keep a straight face.

She rolls her eyes and steps all the way in, letting the door swing shut behind her. When she turns back to me, her eyes widen. "Whoa, binge eating much?"

I glance down at the little pile of junk food on the bed in front of me and shrug. "I was thinking about having a movie marathon tonight, and you can't have a movie night without cinema snacks," I explain.

"Sounds like a party," she says with a small smile. "Well, I'll leave you to your sugar feast then, I just came to get my bag."

"Oh, right, it's back there by the door," I say, pointing behind her to where the little black bag is tucked against the wall. With a nod, she picks it up and heads toward the door again. "Tina, wait," I say before I can stop myself. She glances back over her shoulder at me, and I feel my ears start to burn. Clearing my throat, I continue tentatively, "If you're not doing anything, you wanna stick around and watch a movie or two?"

Tina shifts in place, biting at the inside of her cheek nervously. "Um, Artie, I don't know…"

"You don't have to if you don't want to," I say quickly. It's only now that I realise that that may have come out with different implications than I meant it. I take a deep breath, deciding to just be out with the truth to avoid the awkward confusion we seem to be prone to anymore. "It's just that, well, I figure with Destiny up there alone, I'm probably not going to get much sleep tonight and I'm thinking neither will you. The movie thing, it's my way of distracting myself so I don't stress out. I just thought maybe you could use a distraction too." I can tell she's considering it but she still looks wary, so I rummage in my candy pile until I find the package I'm looking for. "Look, I even got Swedish Fish," I add, swinging the bag temptingly.

She laughs, tilting her head down for a moment to hide behind the curls in her hair. When she looks up again, she's smiling. "Okay, I can't say no to Swedish Fish," she says. She twists her bag in her hands and glances down at herself, and then asks, "Mind if I use your bathroom to change, though? I'm not much for movie marathons in evening wear."

"Go ahead," I say, gesturing toward the door. "While you're gone I'll try to shuffle some of this stuff so there's a place for you to sit." I hear her laughing again until the bathroom door closes, and I feel a smile of my own. At least I won't have to suffer through this whole night alone now. I push the candy beside me toward the foot of the bed, compacting it into a heap so there's open space on the mattress.

I glance up at the sound of the door opening at the same time that Tina's voice says, "Hmm, much better." When she steps out from behind the door, she's wearing a black- and purple-striped skirt with a white vest top and the same black hoodie with the safety pins in the pockets.

"Oh, so it really was Tina behind all that glam and glitter," I tease, feigning surprise. She just sticks her tongue out at me and then sweeps her hair back into a haphazard ponytail.

"So, what are we watching?" she asks, walking around the bed and dropping down into the spot next to me. "Let's think, what are your usual movie marathon series' of choice? Harry Potter or Star Wars?"

"Ha ha, hilarious," I deadpan, fighting back the smile that's threatening to escape. "Actually this time I went with Lord of the Rings."

"You are such a nerd," she informs me, but all the same she gets up and crosses to the television to put in the movie. Not even a minute later she's back on the bed beside me, clutching the remote in one hand and digging out the package of Swedish Fish with the other. I smile at the familiarity even as I feel that same pang in my stomach that feels oddly similar to homesickness.

There is some kind of invisible barrier between us, a six-inch thick wall of awkwardness and quiet separating us. For the first half hour of the movie, we watch in silence, casually munching our way through my miniature candy shop. Then suddenly she glances around curiously until her eyes land on the bag of M&Ms in my lap. Without a word, she reaches over and grabs a handful. The shattering of the metaphorical wall is actually tangible.

"Candy thief," I mutter under my breath, gripping the top of the bag to close it off. A second later, I feel something bounce off the side of my head. I look over at her, raising an eyebrow, and she just smiles before popping another M&M into her mouth. "Oh, now you've done it," I say, plunging my hand into the bag and drawing out my own handful. She squeals and ducks out of the way of my first throw, but the second one pegs her directly in the forehead.

"Hey! Jerk!" she says, throwing three at me at once. I laugh as they pepper my chest and instantly retaliate by tossing the rest of my handful at her. She tries to move out of the line of fire, but only ends up tumbling over the edge of the bed with a yelp.

"Tee, you okay?" I ask, leaning to peer over the corner of the mattress. She sits up on her knees, smoothing out her skirt and laughing.

"I'm fine, you brat," she says, picking a candy up off the carpet and ricocheting it off my glasses.

"Good because you've made a huge mess," I say, pushing myself upright again and looking at the coloured chocolates that have all rolled against my leg.

" _I_  made the mess?" she asks with a laugh. She stands up and perches herself on the mattress facing me, arching an eyebrow. "You're the one chucking handfuls of candy everywhere." She snatches one of the M&Ms from beside my leg and readies to toss it. "Catch," she says and then lightly throws it in the direction of my face. I open my mouth but it bounces off my cheek.

"Good aim," I jibe and then pick up one. "Let me show you how it's really done." I toss one her direction but it falls short, hitting her chin before dropping into her lap.

"Nice shot, superstar," she says sarcastically, scooping up a handful of candy. The next one she throws I actually manage to catch, and she gloats about it until I throw one at her just to shut her up. We spend the next fifteen minutes trying to catch candy in our mouths, laughing and teasing each other, the movie entirely forgotten. By the time we get to the bottom of the M&M bag, only half of the candy has been eaten while the rest ends up on the floor where neither of us dares retrieve it.

"Five years to practice and you still suck at that game as much as always," she says, shaking her head as she opens a bag of liquorice.

"Oh whatever, I'm way better at it than you are," I say, laughing. I reach for a piece of liquorice, and she moves the bag out of my reach, grinning cheekily. "Hey, it's  _my_  candy," I protest. "Share, you candy hog."

"Admit that I'm better at the game," she says.

"In your dreams," I say, reaching for the bag again. She just shakes the bag mischievously. "Oh, that's fair. Let's taunt the cripple." I can't stop myself from laughing along with her as I half-lunge for the bag, missing it and nearly falling into her lap. Determined to win, I snake an arm around her waist and pull, trying to tug her over so I can reach the arm holding up the candy. She lets out a noise of surprise as her balance shifts, and she almost falls on top of me before she catches herself.

I don't even notice that she's dropped the candy on the floor because suddenly she's leaning over me on the bed, her face once again only inches away from mine. The few strands of hair that have escaped her ponytail are tickling my face and neck, and it seems like the entire room has fallen silent except for the sound of my heart pulsing in my ears. Her dark eyes meet mine, and then, before I can really comprehend exactly what is going on, she's kissing me.

It feels foreign and familiar at the same time, but most of all it sends an electric current through my body that stops me from thinking about it much further. I close my eyes and lift a hand toward her face, wanting to draw her closer, but then she's gone even quicker than she came.

Opening my eyes in surprise, I see her sitting up and push myself up as well. "I'm so sorry," she mumbles quickly, looking away from me. An unexplainable surge of panic wells up in me when I see her make to stand, and I reach out and grab her arm to stop her.

"No, wait," I say, awkwardly pushing myself closer with my other hand. Releasing her arm, I place my hand on her cheek and try to turn her face toward me. She resists at first, every muscle in her body coiled in preparation to bolt, but then she finally relaxes just enough for her head to swivel to me even if she keeps her eyes directed down. "Tina, please, just look at me."

"I'm so sorry," she says again, desperately. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have. This isn't – I don't know – It's just–"

I shut her up by pressing my lips to hers again for the briefest moment. When I pull back, she looks up at me, and there is so much emotion in her eyes that I can't make sense of it all. All I know is that if I don't say something now, then I will regret it for the rest of my life. "Tina," I whisper, wrapping my hand around hers, "there was never anyone else for me after you either."

There is one excruciatingly long minute of silence where we simply stare at each other, and I watch her eyes for some flicker of a reaction. And then suddenly I see all of the walls behind her gaze collapse in one solid swipe, the sound of it almost audible in her voice as she breathes, "Artie…" Her hand touches my cheek, feather light at first and then with force as she pulls me toward her.

If at all possible, this kiss clears my mind even more so than the first one. The pressure of her lips against mine shoots thrills of energy into me and I respond eagerly, sliding my hand from her cheek to the back of her neck. She pulls her hand out of mine, and a second later she's slipped it up into my hair. When I move my free hand to her waist, she almost unconsciously moves her body closer to mine until our chests are touching.

Part of me keeps expecting her to suddenly disappear. To break away from me and run out the door. It doesn't seem possible that after all this time apart that she can be here, with me, exactly where she always should have been. But she doesn't go. She presses herself impossibly closer to me and makes a little noise of pleasure when I pull my lips from hers to kiss a trail along her neck. I hear her whisper my name again, so quietly that it's hardly a breath, before she reclaims my lips again.

Together we somehow migrate back to the centre of the bed, and my heart and my body both ignore the quietly protesting voice in the back of my mind when she climbs into my lap. All I can consciously think is that no one has ever made me feel the way she does and that no one ever will. By the time her jacket lands on the floor, even that voice in my brain has given in.

We respond to each other in perfect harmony. When her hands slip beneath the hem of my shirt, I obligingly lift my arms so she can tug it off. I lose my glasses in the process, but I'm beyond the point of caring about little details like that. Taking off her vest top pulls out her hair elastic, and her hair tumbles in curled waves across her shoulders. She places a hand against my chest and gently guides me down until my back is against the mattress, and she hovers over me for a second, teasing my neck and shoulders with light kisses until I let out a breathy laugh.

Then, with a skill that hasn't diminished with time, she eases my limp legs out of my jeans. I prop myself up a little with my elbow to watch the slightly blurred image of her sliding out of her skirt. She is still every bit the vision of my dreams. When her face comes closer to mine again, I can see that there is something nervous in her gaze and it only takes me a second longer to recognise it as the old self-consciousness she held in the days of her stutter. Looking her directly in the eye, I stroke the side of her face and say with every ounce of sincerity in my body, "You are so beautiful."

The light comes back to her eyes, and she kisses me again with a renewed enthusiasm. Feverish fingers remove the last few articles of clothing. As she straddles my hips, I feel the briefest second of doubt, a short flash of  _What are we doing_? But as she gazes down at me with those heated brown eyes, the faintest twist of a smile visible around her lips, all questioning leaves me. I know what this is. It's everything we've been trying to deny for the last week and a half finally winning us over. So without a moment's more hesitation, I reach up and pull her body down to mine.

* * *

I wake up feeling relaxed and contented in a way that I haven't in a very long time. The memories of last night are still fresh in my mind, the way it felt to be with her again taking up the forefront of my thoughts. Finally, after so much time apart, I lived what I had only dreamed of for years now, spending the night with the woman I loved. Love. That's what last night was. It was us finding our way back to the love that we lost all that time ago. A love that neither of us really ever lost.

Stretching sleepily and yawning, I can't help but wonder what time it is. I can't tell for sure because the world beyond the curtained window is still dark, but I have no idea whether from night or from another storm. Is it late enough for us to go up to the hospital and get Destiny yet? My watch is lost somewhere in the mess of clothes on the floor, along with my glasses.

"Tee, you awake?" I ask quietly. Silence. "Apparently not," I murmur to myself with a short laugh before turning my head to her side of the bed. What I see makes me bolt upright, the last remnants of sleep vanishing from my mind. Even without my glasses, there is no mistaking it.

The bed is empty.

She's gone.


	27. Can't and Won't and What If

I hesitate outside the door to the hospital room, feeling my stomach twist uncomfortably. There she is, sitting on the bed with her back to me and talking to Destiny. Something in my brain can't fathom that after last night she can just leave and go back to her life as if nothing happened. How can she do it, because I sure as hell can't get myself to really think of anything else? Did it really mean so little to her?

Shaking away those thoughts, I push myself the rest of the way to the door and tap my knuckles against the frame. Destiny looks up, and her eyes brighten as she half-shouts, "Hi Daddy!" Even from here. I can see Tina freeze.

"Hey Dee, how you feeling?" I ask, summoning up a smile for her. "Ready to go home?"

"Yeah but Momma says I gotta stay 'til the doctor comes and says I can go," she says, pouting dejectedly.

"That's probably a good idea," I agree with a smile. "But hey, I brought you a surprise to pass the time until you can leave." Her eyes widen curiously, and I unzip the case in my lap. I slip my laptop carefully from the bag and open it, bringing it out of sleep mode. Ignoring the stares I can feel, I quickly activate the internet card and then maximise the window at the bottom of the screen. When I'm sure it's working, I smile and roll myself all the way to the bed.

"Okay, Destiny, you ready?" I ask. She nods, her eyes widening even more. I lift the computer and settle it on her lap, and then point at the video screen. "Dee, meet your Aunt Lizzie."

"Hi Destiny," comes Lizzie's slightly static voice from the speakers, and the video pixelates a bit as she waves.

"Is that really real?" Destiny asks in awe.

"Yep, that's really her," I say, and I hear Liz laugh. "She's on her computer at home. She wanted to meet you."

"Can she see me too?" Destiny asks in a loud, carrying whisper.

"I sure can, sweetie," Lizzie says. Destiny breathes out an amazed, "Wow," that makes us all laugh again.

"Alright well, we'll leave you ladies to chat," I say. "Your mom and I are going to go look for that doctor." I lift my gaze, looking at Tina for the first time today. She looks alarmed for a moment before she manages to regain a more casual expression. Destiny just smiles and nods, noticing nothing as she instantly turns her focus back to the computer screen.

Gesturing with one hand for Tina to follow me, I push myself out of the room. Midway down the hallway I find an empty patients' room and steer myself into it. I pivot around in the middle of the room to face Tina just in time to see her carefully shutting the door behind her. With her back still to me, she starts in a quiet voice, "Artie, I –"

"You left." It was meant as a statement, but it comes out sounding more like a question, like I'm somehow hoping that she'll deny it and tell me I was wrong and that there's a perfectly good reason for what happened. Her only response is a heavy sigh and she leans her forehead against the door. The feeling of hurt I had this morning when I realised she'd gone returns and brings with it a wave of frustration. "Do you want to explain what went down last night? Because I am confused right now, and I'm not quite sure that we're both on the same page as to what last night was."

Tina spins to face me so quickly that for a moment I can't make out her expression through her pinwheeling hair. When I finally can, it's a bit alarming to see the tears in her fierce gaze. "Damn it, Artie," she says with a wild desperation that I can't make sense of. "I can't do this. I won't do it. I can't go through all of this again."

"Do what?" I ask, even more confused than when we started.

"I can't fall in love with you again."

This declaration leaves a resonating silence in the room. I'm distantly conscious of the fact that I'm gaping like an idiot, but I can't seem to muster up the brain capacity to care. It feels like all of the air has been forcibly sucked out of me as I stare up at her, waiting for the reality of this situation to finally process in my head. She can't fall for me? So after last night, she's suddenly decided that she won't do it?

I can feel my hands shaking as hurt and righteous indignation flood into me. "Well I'm glad that you get some choice in the matter," I say, bitterly, angrily. "I'm say that you got the chance to just try it out and decide it's not what you wanted. Good that you can just choose. Because I don't have a choice, Tina. I never did. I can't fall in love with you again either because I never fell  _out_  of it. I thought maybe I did. I thought that I was over you and that I could move on. Then last night when you showed me the slightest bit of hope at getting what we had back, I went right back to that place again. Just like I've been doing over and over again for the last five years.

"Do you know what it did to me when you disappeared the first time?" I ask, my voice rising in hysteria. I'm no longer aware of what I'm saying, which is evident in the fact that I'm even bringing this up. I haven't spoken about this to anyone. Ever. "Even I think it's insane just how much I was dependent on you, on how much I needed you. But as stupid as it is for a human being to be so irrevocably attached to another life, you were my everything and when you vanished I fell apart.

"Once it sank in, once the shock wore off and I really understood what was happening, it was like I went completely numb. I didn't do much of anything because it didn't feel like there was any purpose. I didn't talk, to anyone,  _at all_ , because suddenly it didn't seem like there was anything left to say. I was on total auto-pilot. I don't even really remember those five days after, nothing until the sixth night when Lizzie crawled into my bed in the middle of the night, crying because she was scared for me. She was scared  _of_  me. And frankly, when I finally woke up and realised what I was doing, so was I."

I let out an agitated breath, feeling it shake and shudder its way out of my chest. My hands twist in my lap so badly that the hem around one of my fingers has come undone and is fraying. I focus my gaze on my gloves, unable to make myself look up in the direction of the muffled sniffling ahead of me any longer. "I've spent the last five years trying to make myself accept the fact that you and everything we had was gone. That there was no going back, so I just needed to move on and start a new life. And I tried, I really did, but it never worked. It was like every time that I committed myself to getting over you, something would show up and make me think of you again. I couldn't escape you.

"Then suddenly there you were on that stage like something out of a dream, and even though I had no clue how or why you were there, I was  _happy_. Just seeing you made me happy and I felt like I hadn't since high school. And that's when I figured out why I couldn't get over you: I didn't want to. I kept telling myself that I did, that it was the right thing and it was what was best for me, so much that I almost believed it. But in the end, I didn't know for sure that there was no chance for us. I didn't know what had happened to you, and because of it I didn't know that we were really over. It was a one in a billion chance, but it was still a chance."

Tina makes a choked noise that I think might be a combination of a laugh and a sob, but I don't look up to check. "And what would you have done if you'd never found me?" she asks.

"I don't know," I admit, shrugging. "I figure eventually I would've given in to reason and logic. When I was really ready to let you go, I would've. I don't know what I would've done after that, but it doesn't matter anymore. Because I  _did_  find you."

"You make it sound so easy," she says with a scoff. "Like we just pushed the pause button and now we can just start where we left off."

"Did I? Then I really need to work on my vocal inflexion," I say with a laugh, glancing up at her. She tilts her head up enough that I can see her eyes under the shadow of her hair, and her gaze is curious. "It's not going to be easy. Hell, when have things with us  _ever_  been easy? We've had it rough from the start, but we always survived it somehow. I know that things will be hard, but I also know that I won't be able to live with myself if we don't at least try."

"What about Destiny?" Tina asks, and the hysteria has returned to her voice as she finally looks up at me. Her eyes are swollen and red, and her lips are shaking, but there's a burning intensity in her gaze, a fierce protectiveness.

"Do you think she'd have a problem with us being together?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "The thought of having to split her time between her parents is tearing her up. I'm pretty sure she'd be okay with this."

"And what if we break up?" she shoots back. "How okay do you think she'd be with it if it didn't work and she had to watch her parents fighting? If we just stay friends, then it won't come to that. I won't put her through that. Watching parents fight is too painful; it's something that doesn't ever leave you."

The haunted look in her eyes tells me she's drawing from personal experience now. A crush of my own memories surface, ones that I have done my best to forget, and I let out a dark, "Yeah, I know that." When she meets my eyes, they've softened slightly, and I can tell she knows what I'm thinking about.

"Sorry Artie, I forgot," she says in a quieter voice. I shrug one shoulder, trying to brush the topic away and get back on track. The fact that my parents fought a lot right after my accident doesn't really matter right now. "I'm just thinking about Destiny. What if it doesn't work?"

"And what if it does?" I respond. "What if we can make it work? We can give Destiny a real family, the sort of family she deserves. That's what I want her to have, don't you?"

"Of course I do." Tina's bottom lip trembles again and she bites down on it in an attempt to stop it. She leans back against the door, and I watch as she slides down it until she's sitting on the floor, tucking her legs against her side and staring down at her knees. "Of course I want that," she says again, brushing a hand over one of her damp cheeks. "It's just – I can't. I don't think I can do it."

Emotions burn up in me again, and I snort disbelievingly. "No, you  _can_. You just won't." She looks up at me with wide eyes, apparently stunned beyond words. Shaking my head, I unlock my wheels and push myself closer until my feet are just inches from her knees. When I prop my elbows on my thighs and lean toward her, she recoils slightly, pulling her eyes away from mine. "Tina, I love you. If you don't feel anything for me, if you really don't want this, then tell me. If you don't want to give us a shot then just look me in the eye and say so, and then I'll deal with my problem on my own and leave you out of it. All you have to do is  _tell me_."

Tina doesn't look up at me or say anything as I wait with my stomach writhing. It looks a bit like she's shaking her head, but I'm not sure whether that's voluntary because her entire body is trembling, and it might just be that I'm seeing. With each new second that passes, the fiery hope in my chest dims, and my breath catches in my throat as nausea churns in my stomach. She just continues to let out shaky sobs beneath the shield of her hair.

This is it; she really doesn't want us. She's trying to find a way to tell me that she doesn't want me anymore. A way that she thinks will hurt me the least. I swallow hard, a sort of wild panic rising in me. I had been so sure…

After another minute of tense silence passes, I can't stand it anymore. A half-hysterical laugh escapes me, and I sit up, bringing a hand up to rub my eyes. My voice comes out a full octave higher than is natural. "God, Tina, quit torturing me and just say it already."

"I can't."

I drop my hand into my lap again as I give an incredulous laugh. "You can't?  _Really_? Are we really going to keep playing this game, because frankly, I'm–" I stop when my eyes finally land on her face again. Her tear-filled eyes are staring at me with that same look I've seen so many times over the last two weeks, that look we both tried to pretend wasn't there. She looks completely vulnerable and scared, but beneath that is the faintest glimmer of hope.

"So you–" I pause, trying to frame the sentence in my head. "So when you say you can't, you mean–"

"That I can't tell you I don't love you," she finishes, voice thick. Her expression remains serious despite the dazed smile I can feel creeping onto my face. She sighs shakily and pushes her hair back from her face, and when she speaks again, her tone sounds sort of desperate. "Artie, what are we supposed to do now?"

"Well, for a start you could smile at least a little bit," I offer with a short laugh, "because the doomed expression on your face at the thought of being in love with me is  _really_  killing the moment."

She laughs, even if it's short-lived, but when she stops there is still the slightest curl at the corner of her mouth. "You know what I meant," she says pointedly, and I nod. "We live two-thousand miles apart and we have these two separate lives, and I just don't see how this can work."

"Come home with me." I'm not sure whether the look of surprise on her face is from my suggestion or from the determined way I said it, but a second later, I see hesitancy light in her eyes and I quickly hold up my hands to stop her train of thought. "I'm not saying anything permanent, I'm not asking you to just move on a whim or something. Just sort of like – a vacation."

"A vacation?" she echoes sceptically.

"Oh c'mon, you can't deny that you're dying for a bit of a break after all this," I say, and she gets that little tight-lipped smile again. "Look, Lizzie's birthday is next week. I'm going back to Lima for a few days, and I'd really like you and Destiny to be there with me. We can spend the Fourth of July somewhere that actually gets some sunshine. And then after that, we can figure out where we want to go from there. Whether you want to stay in Chicago with me, or if I should come back to Seattle with you, or even if we just want to cut our losses and go back to just worrying about what to do for Destiny."

Tina is chewing at the inside of her cheek anxiously, her eyes distantly focused on something behind me. I start drumming my fingers against my kneecaps, thinking that if I have to face another moment of suspense today then my heart might very well just give up beneath the stress. Finally, she looks up at me and says, "Getting a little sun couldn't hurt."

A huge grin breaks out on my face before I can contain it and this time she mirrors it. I offer my hands and she takes them, pulling herself to her feet. Before she can slip her hands from mine, I tighten my grip slightly and try to tug her closer. In a reaction that can only be described as instinct, she sits down in my lap and immediately wraps her arms around my neck. I hug her back tightly, amazed that after all this time she still understands what I want so easily. It feels like some kind of sign, an indication that there really is a chance for what we're trying to get back.

"Thank you," I whisper into her hair, blinking back the burn in my eyes. I don't have to elaborate on what I mean because she nods against my neck and squeezes me in acknowledgement before finally letting go. She swipes one hand over her cheeks before she lifts her gaze to look at me, but when she does there's a smile on her shaking lips.

"We should probably go," she says, and my eyes widen in surprise.

"Oh, right, yeah," I agree and a laugh, a real, genuine laugh, escapes me. "Yeah, we've got a stir-crazy kid down the hall waiting for us to come back with that doctor."

Tina grins as she stands up again, quickly smoothing out her wrinkled skirt and brushing her hair back from her face. When she turns around to open the door, I hastily rub my palms across my cheeks one last time, just in case, and then I follow her out into the hall. We both hesitate just before the door to Destiny's room, drawing in deep breaths to check that our breathing is steady again. She glances down at me and we exchange small smiles before going in.

"You're back!" Destiny says excitedly.

I faintly hear a murmur of, "'bout time," from the computer still nestled on Destiny's lap and I smirk, realising Lizzie must still be there.

"You was gone real long," Destiny continues and her brow pulls down in an expression that looks almost concerned.

"Sorry, Dee, we got lost," I say and I catch Tina glancing sideways at me, raising an eyebrow at the lie. Ignoring her, I finish with exaggerated awe, "This place is  _huge_."

"And your dad doesn't know how to ask for directions," Tina chips in with a laugh, making me look up at her with a mock scowl. "Typical guy."

" _Any-_ way," I start pointedly, which only makes Tina smile more, "did you have fun talking to Aunt Liz?"

Destiny's face lights up and she nods enthusiastically. Both Tina and I move closer as she opens her mouth to say something, but then her blue eyes slip past us and she giggles, lifting a hand and pointing. I twist to look back over my shoulder and see Destiny's doctor stop midway through the doorframe, a pleasantly confused expression on his face at the unusual greeting.

"Well, would you look at that," I mumble in amusement, catching Tina's eye. We both smile, biting down on our lips to stop ourselves from laughing. Destiny thinks we've spent the last hour scouring every inch of this hospital looking for her doctor, and then as fate would have it the moment we come back in defeat…

Destiny claps her hands in excitement, beaming proudly as she declares, "Found him!"


	28. Settling In

Three days after Destiny is released from the hospital finds the three of us leaving the Chicago O'Hare airport. It was another nerve-racking trip for me, more so this time because of who my company on the plane was. Getting panicked at every small jerk of the plane while my four-year-old daughter has her forehead pressed against the window, staring down at the clouds below us excitedly, was kind of embarrassing. On the other hand, Tina seemed to find it pretty funny even as she shot concerned looks at me the entire trip.

The drive to my place is mostly quiet apart from Destiny's occasional awestruck noise from the backseat as she peers out the window at the city. I am anxiously tapping the fingers of one hand against the steering wheel, (it's so nice to have my van back finally and not have to rely on taxis anymore), trying to keep my nerves under control. In the seat next to me, Tina is silently staring out the windscreen, picking at her fingernails in her lap.

Even though I'm still confident in this plan, still believe that this is our best shot at finding out if what we have will work, it doesn't change the fact that I'm nervous. Not only about having my daughter and sort-of-girlfriend staying with me, but about the end of this weekend as well. In two days, we'll be making the drive to Lima and facing my family for the first time since all of this happened. It's altogether more than just a little bit frightening.

At the same time, one glance in the rear-view mirror reassures me. Destiny deserves to know her family and my worries about receiving a real lecture from my mother are no reason to rob her of that any longer. Besides, letting Tina see firsthand that my family isn't going to hold any grudges against her can only ease things for all of us.

Finally reaching the smaller residential corner of the city, I steer my van into my wide driveway. I see Tina straighten up in her seat, looking around in interest. "You live here?" she asks in surprise, her eyes fixed on the single-story brick house.

"I know, it's a bit much for one person," I say with a smile while I work the controls of my van lift. "But it was already mostly handicap accessible from the family that lived here before. It wound up being cheaper to get this one than to get a smaller place and have to pay the over and above to remodel so I could live in it." I regard my house appraisingly and then shrug. "Besides, it's kinda nice to have the extra rooms. Lizzie comes down to stay sometimes, and she complains a lot less having her own room than she did sleeping on the couch in my college apartment."

While Tina is getting Destiny out of her seat, I move around to the back and start unloading bags. I manage to loop both my guitar case and laptop bag over my back handles, and then counterbalance it by hauling my suitcase into my lap. When Tina has grabbed hers and Destiny's, I lead the way up the steadily sloped ramp to the front door. It only takes a little manoeuvring to get the door unlocked, and I push myself forward, nudging the door open with my legs as I go in.

"It's not much to look at," I say, looking around the sparsely furnished living room. "I'm still accumulating things as I go, and I haven't really spent enough time home since I moved in to be bothered with decorating or anything."

"It's huge," Destiny says, staring around in awe.

Tina smiles and nods in agreement. "We're used to living with five people in a two-bedroom apartment," she says. "It was a big step up when we moved to the new place after Grace and Jake got engaged because then we finally had a third bedroom, so the kids didn't have to share rooms with their parents anymore."

"Oh, right," I mumble, blushing. I had never given any thought to how they must have been living for all these years. I adjust my glasses nervously and clear my throat. "Well, there's room enough for everyone to have their own room here. Uhm, let me give you the quick tour."

I gesture widely at the room and say, "Living room, obviously. Here around the corner is the kitchen." Tina pauses to peek in as we pass and I see her eyes widen for a second before she smiles. "Yeah, I've got me-sized countertops and appliances," I explain with a laugh. "Lizzie refuses to come into the kitchen when she's here because she complains it makes her feel like a giant. It's okay; it just means she has to endure my terrible cooking. Which I'm going to apologise in advance for, by the way."

Twisting my chair back to the hall, I push myself down to the first door. "I figure Destiny can use this room," I say, pushing the door open. "It's the one Lizzie claimed for her visits, so the decorating is her fault."

The bed has a bright pink duvet, and an old pair of ballet slippers hangs from the wall above the headboard. A framed photograph of Liz and I that sits on top of the dresser is the only other decoration in the room. Destiny squeaks in excitement, wandering in and looking around curiously.

"I think she likes it," Tina says in a mock whisper, smiling.

"I knew having a pink bedroom in my house would come in handy eventually," I say and laugh. "Finally, I get to say 'told you so' to the guys from work." Tina smiles appreciatively and walks in to set Destiny's bag on the bed.

"Alright, well across the hall is the bathroom," I say, pivoting to place a hand on the doorframe. "And back here," I continue, rolling backwards down to the end of the hall, "are the last two rooms. This one here is mine, and then this one sort of doubles as my study, not that I really need one. You can use this one, if you like," I say to Tina, my stomach twisting uncomfortably. I'm not sure whether she'll be for the idea of us sharing a room so quickly, and I figure it's better to be safe. The last thing we need is to start by making assumptions and push things too fast. Tina bites her lip and then steps into the spare room, setting down her bag beside the bed. She doesn't meet my eyes when she walks back into the hall.

Clearing my throat again, I try to clear my head as well. "Right, well just let me put my things away and then how about I call for some dinner?" I suggest, and Destiny looks up eagerly. Taking that as my answer, I push myself into my room to lay my bags on the bed.

Two hours later there's a half-empty box of pizza on the end table beside the couch and Destiny is nodding off to  _The Lion King_ , which I adamantly insisted that I only owned because my nephews had left it the last time my brother and his family had come to visit. Tina hadn't fallen for it, but she humoured me anyway. "We should probably get her into bed," I whisper so I don't wake Destiny, glancing at the clock to see it's already almost ten. "This time change is going to be hard on her."

Tina nods, standing up and scooping Destiny off the cushions. Destiny mumbles blearily, but she just buries her face in Tina's shoulder and goes back to sleep. As Tina carries her down to the bedroom, I clean up dinner and take the rest of the pizza into the kitchen. I've just finished and gone back into the living room to turn off the television when Tina re-emerges.

"She's out cold," she says with a smile. "Even getting her changed into her pyjamas didn't wake her up."

"I don't blame her, long flights and jumping time zones is always pretty exhausting, even for people who haven't just gotten over being sick," I say.

"Yeah, those flights seem to wear on you pretty hard, don't they?" she responds with a teasing grin. I feel my cheeks heat up, but I shrug noncommittally. "How do you handle travelling all over for work when you don't like flying?"

"It pays for this place," I answer. "You know how that is. I can't imagine you actually enjoy cleaning up after dozens of strangers every week. You didn't even like cleaning your own room."

"But it pays the bills," she agrees. "Yeah, I understand."

"Besides, it's actually not that bad of a job," I continue with another shrug. "I enjoy it, and if it means I have to put up with a few hours of terror every few weeks, then I'll deal."

She nods, but there is something else in her eyes, something that I can't exactly pinpoint. After a minute she opens her mouth to say something, but then quickly covers it with a hand as a yawn escapes her instead. I laugh and say, "Looks like maybe Dee's not the only one wiped out by the flight."

"Yeah maybe," Tina admits when she's able to speak again. "I think maybe I'll go to bed."

"I was thinking the same thing," I say, and when I head down the hall, I can hear Tina a step behind me. I pause outside the door to Destiny's room for a moment, peering in at the mound beneath the blankets that is my daughter. "Do you think she'll be okay in there?" I ask hesitantly. "I mean, I don't want to terrify her when she wakes up in an unfamiliar place."

"I think she'll be fine," Tina whispers back. "She's really good at adapting, it takes a lot to worry her. And if she does get nervous, well then one of us will just wake up with her in bed with us."

Trusting her word on it, I nod and then make my way to my bedroom. I stop in front of my door, and Tina lingers by hers as well. "Well, um, goodnight," I offer lamely, not quite sure what else to say.

"Goodnight," she echoes, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. Then she leans down and wraps her arms around me. I hug her back, once again not failing to notice just how perfectly she fits into my arms. I turn my head slightly to kiss her cheek just as she apparently does the same, and we both recoil in surprise when our lips meet. Straightening up, her cheeks flood with pink and she murmurs another hasty, "Goodnight," before turning around and disappearing into her room.

My face feels warm as I go into my bedroom. It seems ridiculous that something like that little kiss can get us both so flustered, especially considering what happened in my hotel room a few nights ago. But as I think about it, I realise that was always part of the charm in our relationship when we were younger. No matter what else we'd done, it was always those little gestures that meant the most; the quick kiss on the cheek before she left for class, the light squeeze of the hand whenever she could tell I was stressed that would remind me she was there with me. It was always those littlest reactions, the perfectly harmonised gestures that were almost habit or instinct, that told me we were meant for each other.

And now, even with five years of hardship and separation behind us, those moments are still there.

I feel the familiar spark of hope in my chest flare up again, in a way that sends currents of energy through my veins. There's a smile on my face as I set about unpacking my things. Even if we are still far from any certainty, there is hope, and as a natural optimist, I know the power of hopes. The dusty shoebox in the back of my closet containing a pair of unused tap shoes is a testament to that. When it comes to the really important things, the things that really matter, the whole point is that even though it won't be fast or easy, as long as there is still hope, then it can still be attainable.

After I finish putting away my things, I change into my pyjamas and manoeuvre onto my bed. A sigh of relief escapes me when I feel the comfort, grateful to be off that hotel mattress finally. I give myself a moment to enjoy the feeling before I drag myself into a sitting position again. Propping my back against the headboard, I pull my right leg closer and begin absently kneading the sole of my foot.

My hands have worked their way up to my knee when a noise in the silent house snaps me out of my daze. It takes me a second to place the sound; the creaking floorboard in the hall just outside my room. Just as I realise this, my bedroom door begins inching inward until there's enough room for a head to poke in. I smile when I see who it is.

"Hey, Tee," I say.

The set of her shoulders eases, and her expression relaxes. "Oh, you are still awake," she concludes.

"Yeah, two weeks of going out for coffee at midnight has sort of messed up my schedule," I reply with a laugh. "You can't sleep either?"

"No, it doesn't feel late enough to be going to bed yet," she says.

"Probably because it's barely ten where you're from," I point out and she nods. "Looking for some company until you're tired enough to sleep?"

Tina's smile turns shy, but she nods again. "I just thought maybe if you weren't tired either then you might not mind."

"Not in the least," I say, nodding toward the empty space on the mattress. She takes the invitation and comes in, carefully shutting the door behind her before climbing onto the bed. She's wearing the same pyjamas from that first night at the hospital, the plain black vest top and black pants decorated with white music notes and blue stars. Her hair is folded back into a braid that hangs over her shoulder, and she smiles softly. Her eyes land on my hands, still working rhythmic circles into the underside of my knee, and I see her eyebrows pull down curiously.

"Five-hour flights are a long time for my legs to stay stagnant," I explain. "I'm making sure all the blood's still flowing like it's supposed to. Last thing I need is to end up in the hospital over Liz's birthday. She'd murder me."

"Wait, you fly all over for work when it's that dangerous for you?" she asks, her eyes widening in alarm.

I smile at her troubled expression, thinking she looks a bit like my mother when she's glaring like that. I wisely keep that observation to myself. "Seriously, Tee, it's not that big a deal," I say. "A couple of little precautions and I'm no more likely to have problems than anyone else. I just rub the muscles a little en route and then make sure I do a good job of it when I get home, and I'm fine."

"Oh, that's what you were doing," she says with a smile. "I thought you were playing the piano on your legs. The way you were moving your fingers, that's what it looked like."

"That's on purpose," I admit, smirking. "I'm working on the art of subtlety."

Tina snorts in amusement, and I smile as well. Subtlety has never been a strong suit of mine, and my infamous word vomit tendencies have gotten me into more than my fair share of awkward situations.

"So, was there really no one else?" she suddenly asks, her voice timid as she refuses to meet my gaze.

"Wow, look who's being subtle now," I tease in an undertone, and she smiles a little as she reaches over to shove my shoulder playfully. "No, there was never anything that came even remotely close to clicking. In five years I've been on three dates, and that's including the whatever-it-was lunch with Grace. One of them we just mutually agreed there was nothing between us at the end, and the other got terrified off when she kissed me and I, uh–" I feel my ears burning as I finish, "I started crying." Tina looks up in surprise, and the heat spreads to my cheeks. "I was twenty, and it was the first time I'd been kissed since you. It all just got a little – overwhelming."

There's something sad in Tina's gaze, but she lowers her eyes before I can really figure it out. I follow her glance and am surprised to see that my left foot is between her hands as she copies my hand movements. For a moment I'm tempted to brush her away, to tell her I can do it, so I don't have to see her working at my wasted limbs. I stop myself from acting on that irrational compulsion, pushing away the surge of pride and independence before it causes trouble. If we're going to get this relationship to work then I need to learn to accept her help. I just give a short nod of thanks and move my hands from my right thigh to the left.

"What about you?" I ask, picking the conversation up again.

"I haven't really had the time even to consider dating," she admits in a tone so offhanded that it's a little unnerving. "I've only gone out once since Destiny was born, right after Grace and Jake got together. They set me up with one of his friends, and we went double. He was nice, but I couldn't make myself enjoy it. Then when I got home, Destiny was furious with me for going out with someone, thinking it was going to stop you from ever coming to find us. She didn't talk to me the rest of the night. I used that as my excuse for not going out with him again when he asked me, but really I just didn't want to. I wasn't ready."

We sit in the quiet for a minute, both of us wrapped up in our thoughts and staring at our hands. Finally, I laugh and shake my head. "Some daytime soap opera we are."

Tina laughs as well, looking up at me with a smile on her face. "And we thought all our friends' high school drama was bad," she agrees.

"Yeah, I think we officially qualify as total hypocrites now," I say. As I slide my hands down to my knee, I feel them brush against hers. She smiles and withdraws her hands, rearranging herself on the mattress so she's laying down on her stomach parallel to me. "Although I may just be biased but I think our drama is a little less shallow than theirs."

"Maybe just a bit," she says with a nod, holding her hands up to specify a length that is definitely more than 'just a bit.' I smirk, pushing myself until I can lay down beside her. Once I'm flat on my back, I fold my arms beneath my head and turn my head to face her. "Especially with the Baby-gate drama that first year, remember how bad that got?"

"How could I forget?" I respond in exasperation. The subject of our friends' drama carries us for over an hour, well after our conversation starts becoming punctuated with yawns. "Remember that time Mercedes broke Kurt's windscreen with a rock?" I ask with a laugh and then glance sideways. Tina's laying on her side with her eyes closed and the only answer I get is a mumbled, "Mhmm."

Smiling, I take off my glasses and set them on the bedside table. I reach down and grab the duvet folded at the foot of the bed, dragging it up over the both of us. Turning off the lamp, I settle myself more comfortably beneath the covers and cast one last look at Tina's sleeping face in the dark. "G'night, Tee," I say into the quiet and then close my eyes, letting myself drift off.

This time, when the sunlight breaks through the curtains and stirs me into consciousness several hours later, I don't wake up alone.


	29. Homecoming

"Artie?" I grumble, raising an eyebrow but not opening my eyes. "C'mon, lazy butt, I know you're awake."

"Am not," I answer with a smile, still not bothering to open my eyes.

Tina snorts and I feel her shaking her head against my shoulder. Even though she's left her bags in the spare bedroom, for the last two nights she's snuck into my room on the pretence of talking until she's tired. Instead, she just talks until she falls asleep on the bed next to me. Not that I'm complaining, really. It's still a bit disconcerting to wake up with her there, but in a good way.

"Well you'd better wake up soon," she says. "We slept late again, and if we don't get going soon, I think we're going to be late getting to your parents."

I groan and lift the hand not trapped beneath her shoulders to rub the sleep from my eyes. "What time is it?" I ask blearily.

I feel the mattress move as Tina lifts her head off my shoulder, presumably glancing across me at the clock on the bedside table. "Just after eleven," she answers, and I curse under my breath.

"This time zone adjustment is going to be the death of me," I mutter and finally pry my eyes open. Thankfully this time we remembered to check that the curtains were fully closed before going to bed, so the room isn't painfully bright. "Like, literally. aActual death. This is what I get for promising Mom we'd be there before dinnertime."

Tina is laughing as she sits up, and I watch as she combs her fingers back through her dishevelled hair. When she's finished, she pushes the covers off herself, exposing my side to the cooler bedroom air and making me shiver. She just smiles again. "I'm going to go get dressed and then get Destiny out of bed," she says. "Don't go back to sleep."

"Mmm, right," I agree without much conviction, letting my head fall back on the pillow as I tuck the blanket back against my side. A second later, I feel the sheets fly off of me, and I make a surprised noise as I prop myself up on my elbows. Tina is standing at the foot of the bed, the blanket held in her grip. Even without my glasses, I can tell she's smirking at me. "You're evil," I inform her as she folds the duvet at the end of the bed.

"You're lazy," she shoots back casually.

I try to scowl at her but in the end, I fail. As usual. Rolling my eyes, I sit up the rest of the way and reach for my glasses. "Fine, I'm up," I say. As if I wasn't going to get up anyway after realising we're supposed to be leaving for my parents' right now. "Can I at least get a good morning?" I ask, raising an eyebrow and smiling.

"Good morning," Tina says brightly and then turns for the door.

"Not quite what I meant," I mutter under my breath.

"I know," she says from the doorway, smiling at me. With that teasing grin still on her face, she disappears out into the hall.

Shaking my head, I move into my chair and push myself to the closet. As I'm gathering my clothes, I consider how the last two days have been. Our relationship is about as backwards as they come, honestly. Well, I suppose that's fairly obvious since we had a kid together, we're just barely living under the same roof and not even on a permanent basis yet, and at the same time, we are still nervous and hesitant in little things like kissing each other. Despite the fact that she's slept next to me in bed the last two nights, we've only kissed once since that accidental one the first night.

I roll back to the bed so I can change my clothes, still marvelling over it all. For the most part, things have been comfortable between us, something very similar to the same easy bantering romance we had all those years ago. It's only on occasion that one of us will say something that causes a tangible tremor in the conversation, and it's only half of the time that it causes one of us to pull up defences. The rest of the time we both hurry to brush aside the awkwardness and steer things back on track. Overall, I'm still very hopeful.

When I'm dressed and ready for the day, I push myself out into the hall where I can already hear noise coming from the kitchen. Not to mention, smell the warm coffee. Picking up my pace, I enter the kitchen and smile when I see Destiny sitting at the table, on top of the phone books so she can reach, dressed and munching on a piece of toast even though her eyes are still half-glazed with sleep. She grins around a mouthful of buttery bread when she sees me.

"Morning, princess," I say and then turn my chair toward the counter. Tina is perched on the countertop beside the coffee maker, one steamy mug in her hand while another is waiting next to her. "Thanks," I say gratefully, picking up the waiting cup and taking a swallow.

"I figured maybe if you could smell the coffee you might actually get out of bed," she says with a smirk.

Even though I know she's only teasing me, I just take another swallow and say, "You know me too well." She laughs into her mug. The three of us sit in a silence that's broken only by the loud crunching noises from Destiny's toast until Tina tips back the last of her coffee and sets aside her mug.

"I'm going to go check that mine and Destiny's bags are ready," she says, standing up from the counter. Then she shocks me by swooping down and pressing a feather-light kiss onto my cheek, murmuring "Good morning," in my ear before stepping around me and slipping into the hallway. I stare after her in surprise, and the errant thought strikes me that I may very well never understand that woman. And as I lift a hand and touch the patch of skin on my cheek that feels like it's tingling with electricity, I decide I'm okay with that.

With breakfast behind us, the rest of the morning is a scrambled rush of packing. Thankfully we had the forethought to do most of our packing last night before bed, but that doesn't include the last minute additions of things like pyjamas and toiletries. Our stay at my parents will be nearly a week long, starting tonight on the last day of June and spanning through the Fourth of July. Once we get everything loaded into the back of my van and finally get onto the road, it's just after noon.

The drive from Chicago to Lima generally takes about four and a half hours if driven straight through. Between bathroom breaks, stops to let Destiny run around and burn off some of her seemingly never-ending supply of energy, and a lunch stop at three, our trip takes a little over six hours.

I notice that the closer to Lima we get, the quieter Tina gets. She was mostly relaxed at the start, chatting idly and listening to Destiny yammering from the backseat. After each new stop, the line of her shoulders tightens and her expression becomes more withdrawn. As we pass over the Illinois-Ohio border she starts picking at her fingernails in her lap, her gaze loosely focused out the window as she chews distractedly on the inside of her cheek.

"Tina, are you okay?" I ask quietly, trying not to disturb Destiny who's just dozed off in her seat. We just passed the first sign dictating how many miles left until Lima, and her posture had quite suddenly gone rigid, her body hunching in on itself defensively. At the sound of my voice she starts, and when her eyes turn to me, I recognise the anxious wild light in them.

For a moment I think she's not going to answer me, and then she whispers, "I'm scared."

"Of my family?" I ask, tearing my eyes from the road for a second to read her reaction. The look on her face says it all. "Honestly, so am I."

"That's not very reassuring," she says with a faint laugh.

"Well, okay, maybe scared is too strong a word," I admit. "Nervous is more like it. I know they've accepted the news, but I also know actually seeing you and Destiny is going to be something else entirely. And I'd be lying if I said I'm not still a little afraid of my mom taking me out back and beating me with a stick for getting you pregnant in the first place." Tina smiles a little at this, biting her lip with a mischievous little smirk, and I know she's thinking about what we used to get up to in high school without my parents knowing. I grin as well, but continue, "It'll be okay though. We Abrams are pretty good at taking things as they come. Right now I'm actually more nervous about getting in trouble for being so late than anything else."

"I think we might miss dinner," she agrees, glancing at the clock on the dash. After this, Tina smiles a little more readily, even if she can't hide the fear in her eyes as the signs along the interstate seem to count down to Lima.

Just like always, pulling off the highway onto Main Street is a staggering wave of nostalgia and déjà vu. Even as the world around it buzzes on, Lima is sort of stuck in this little time bubble. Nothing ever really changes. Tina echoes my thoughts when she stares out the window and says, "It all looks the same."

I turn the corner at the same old-fashioned diner that Tina and I used to frequent on our many spontaneous late night ice cream runs. Down the street, I can see the park where we spent a lot of lazy summer afternoons. The next left turn is at the street corner where we used to meet up to walk to school together. Everywhere I look is another thing that reminds me of her, of us. It all reminds me why I was so desperate to leave Lima in the first place.

We pull up in front of my parents' house at six-forty-two, about an hour and a half after I told them we'd be there. It's a surprise my mom hasn't called me yet in a panic, trying to find out where we are. Tina peers out the window at the house, her eyes wide and her gaze distant. "Yeah, this place hasn't changed any either," I say, looking up at the familiar house that looks almost exactly like it has for the last decade. The look Tina gives me when she glances back at me tells me that's precisely what she was thinking.

"Are we there?" Destiny asks, her voice vibrating with excitement that cuts through the grogginess from only just waking up.

"Yep, we're there," I say, taking a deep breath that comes out more loudly than I mean it to. In the passenger seat, Tina does the same thing. While I'm getting myself out of the van, Tina climbs out and helps Destiny out of her seat. We leave our bags in the van, deciding by unspoken consent that we'll come back for them later after the impending drama has calmed down. Tina walks a half-step behind me, holding one of Destiny's hands, as we make our way up the front walk.

Taking another steadying breath, I knock once on the front door before reaching up and pushing it open. I can hear the faint hum of voices from somewhere down the hall as I push my chair into the entryway. Before the door even has time to close behind us, there is a frantic thudding of footsteps and a blur of pink and denim whirls around the corner leading from the kitchen.

"Oh my God!" Lizzie shouts at the top of her lungs, an incredulous smile breaking out on her face. She stands there for a minute, her wide eyes panning over all of us in turn, and finally, they focus. "Tina?" she asks, her voice so much quieter and hopeful that the contrast seems impossible. When I glance over my shoulder, Tina is staring at my sister in shock. Not that I blame her; the last time Tina saw Liz, she was a twelve-year-old in pigtails. In a flash, Lizzie has sprinted the few feet and all but jumped on Tina, wrapping her in a hug. "Oh my God," she repeats, pulling back to examine Tina again. "It's really you."

"Liz," Tina says and pauses to survey my sister as well. "I've missed you so much," she declares, and then they fall back into another hug that looks like they are trying to crush each other. When they finally let go this time, they both have tears on their faces to go along with the smiles.

Lizzie steps back, and her eyes move downward this time. "Hi, Destiny," she says, kneeling down in front of her. "It's nice to actually meet you." She opens her arms and Destiny doesn't even hesitate for a second before pouncing on her, curling her arms around Lizzie's neck. Liz stands up and takes Destiny with her, nestling my daughter against her hip. "C'mon, we've just started dinner," she says, gesturing for us to follow her back down to the kitchen.

Tina and I exchange half-amused, half-terrified looks before we tail after my sister and daughter. When we reach the entrance to the kitchen, I feel Tina's hand land on my shoulder, and I draw encouragement from it just like I know she's doing. The moment we pass through the doorway, the already low volume in the room falls dead silent, and every eye turns to us.

My mom and dad are seated at the far end of the table. The empty seats along the nearest side are the ones I assume have been left for Tina, Destiny, and I, as well as Lizzie's vacated seat. The other two sides of the table are filled up by my older brother and his wife along with my three nephews, the latter all looking confused at the sudden stillness in the room. I feel my face colouring at all of the blatant staring. "Hi," I say awkwardly, lifting a hand in a weak attempt at a wave.

Mom lets out a shuddery breath, her eyes wet as a hand rests over her heart. Dad silently stands up, walking around the table and stopping directly in front of Tina. She shies back just a little, but when she tilts her head down to hide in her hair, he slips his hand beneath her chin and lifts her face again. After staring at her for what must be a full minute, he suddenly smiles. Tina caves at this, falling into his embrace with her own smile on her face.

"It's so good to have you back," Dad says, patting her back before drawing out of the hug.

When he turns his attention to Destiny, I see Mom scurrying around the table as well. She pulls Tina into a bone-crushing hug without a word, openly sobbing. The two of them cling to each other for a long while before Mom steps back and takes Tina's face in her hands. "We have missed you so much, honey," she says sincerely, stroking the tears off Tina's cheeks with her thumbs before drawing her back into her arms.

My attention is pulled from this when I see my brother stand up on the other side of the room, all six-feet-three-inches of him nearly brushing his head against the ceiling fan. Jack always has been the tallest of us all, even taller than Dad. At the moment his blue eyes are so wide that they look in danger of falling right out of his face as he stares in shock at Tina. His lips part, but it takes him several seconds more before he seems to be able to summon up words.

"Is that – Tina?" he asks breathlessly, flicking his gaze to me questioningly. For a moment I don't understand, but the genuine disbelief in his eyes suddenly makes me realise something.

"Um, Mom, did somebody forget to tell Jack what's going on?" I ask. "I thought you said you'd at least give him a heads up before we got here."

Mom and Dad exchange frantic looks before turning to my brother. Lizzie simply takes one look at Jack's confused face and then nearly doubles over laughing. Tina's gaze moves across all of them, ending with me. When our eyes meet, both of us can't help but smile.

"That's really her, isn't it?" Jack asks, his eyes searching over Tina in awe. "It's really Tina."

"Hi Jack," she says with a tentative smile. Jack freezes at the sound of her voice, and then quiet suddenly he lets out a booming laugh that feels like it should shake the room.

"My God, it's really you," he says, crossing the room in three steps and sweeping her up into a hug that lifts her feet several inches off the ground. "We all thought you were dead. I can't believe you're really here."

"And Jack," I continue, and he sets Tina back on her feet to look at me curiously, "this is my daughter, Destiny." I gesture over to Destiny, who is currently in my dad's arms and watching the scene with confused interest. "Dee, this is your Uncle Jack."

Destiny looks up at Jack's face, which even from her raised height is still several inches above her. "You're _weally_ tall," she observes solemnly.

Jack laughs again and turns back to me. "Definitely your daughter," he says. "Artie, I think you've got some serious explaining to do because apparently everyone else here knows a story that I don't."

"Later," Mom breaks in, waving her hands at him in an attempt to shoo him back toward his seat. "We can talk about all those things later. First, I think it's about time we got back to dinner before it gets cold."

It looks for a second like Jack is going to object, but even though he's near twice her size, he knows better than to argue with Mom. Everyone slips back into their seats. Lizzie sits down in the seat nearest my parents and then demands, in her oh-so-charming way that somehow doesn't make it sound like an order, that Tina sits beside her. We place Destiny in the chair between Tina and me since she's looking a little overwhelmed at all the unfamiliar faces, which leaves me at the end by my brother.

"I can't believe you knocked her up, Shorty," Jack whispers to me as everyone is distracted with dishing up their plates.

"You're one to talk," I point out, raising an eyebrow at him and glancing shortly across the table at my oldest nephew, who is nearly thirteen already and was born on my brother's nineteenth birthday. Jack smirks at my response, reaching over and ruffling my hair before I can stop him. I scowl at him as I desperately try to flatten my hair again.

Mom clearing her throat makes both of us look toward the head of the table, and she stands up with her glass clutched in her hand. "It's such a wonderful thing to have the entire family together again," she says, her voice still a little thick. Her eyes linger slightly longer on Tina and Destiny than everyone else as her gaze circles the table. "There's no greater feeling in the world than being able to look around this table and see all of you, our little family, all gathered together."

Dad suddenly stands up, apparently sensing the same long, emotional speech from Mom that the rest of us are fearing. Raising his glass above her head, he shouts, "To family." The rest of us smile at Mom's flustered expression when we all echo him. A beat later she does follows suit and then drops back into her seat.

As we're eating dinner, I glance over at Tina just as she turns to me. Her eyes are still moist, but when she smiles at me I know it's real. Lizzie promptly drags her back into conversation, telling her all about her boyfriend and throwing a baby carrot down the table at Jack when he makes a wise-crack about the guy, and I can't help but smile too.

It's good to be home.


	30. Comfort and Security

Dinner is a very prolonged affair, filled with more talking than actual eating despite Mom's comment. No one really brings up Tina or where she's been the past few years, even though it's painfully obvious that everyone in the room wants to know more. Tina is a little withdrawn, listening more than talking, but I can tell she's grateful that everyone is keeping their curiosity at bay for now.

When everyone has finally finished eating, at about the same time that it gets completely dark outside, Mom starts gathering the dishes. Diane, Jack's wife, instantly stands to help her and everyone but me seems surprised when Tina does as well. "Tina dear, it's fine, you don't need to help," Mom says gently. "You've had a long trip, go relax."

"I want to help," Tina says insistently. She and my mom exchange glances for a moment, and then Mom nods and goes back to gathering plates.

The rest of us relocate to the living room. Jack's three boys settle on the couch, the oldest one absorbed in a handheld game while the younger two play a pretending game that seems to involve them being snipers hunting aliens, if I understand the gibberish right. Lizzie steals Destiny, and the two of them sit near the window, talking and giggling a lot. Jack takes the seat nearest where I'm parked, and the seriousness in his expression gives me forewarning about what's coming. As if I hadn't already guessed.

"Okay, Little Brother, what's going on?" he demands in a hushed voice, and although his frown is solemn, his eyes are bright with concern. I take a deep breath and then rush to summarise everything I've learned in the last three weeks into a matter of minutes, not knowing how long I have before Tina comes back into the room. She's already had to relive everything that happened to her enough times recently, I don't want to put her through it again. I hate seeing that haunted look in her eyes whenever it's brought up.

"Dear Christ," Jack breaths when I finish, dragging a hand back through his hair. "I always reckoned her parents had something to do with it, with how weird they were and how they skipped town like that, but I never would have thought of something like this. Is that even legal? That's insanity." He shakes his head and then glances sideways at me. His next question surprises me. "How are you holding up?"

"Me?" After talking about all the hell Tina went through, I wasn't expecting the conversation to turn back to me so quickly. "I'm – confused," I admit. "It's been a lot to take in, and in a very short stretch of time. I'm still not entirely sorted out, but I'm doing better than I was. A lot better."

Jack regards me for a second and then a smile breaks out on his face. "I still can't believe my baby brother is a dad," he says incredulously.

I smile in response. "Yeah, me neither," I say, a bit dazedly even to my own ears, glancing over at where Destiny is sprawled across Lizzie's lap and talking animatedly.

"Makes me feel really old," Jack mutters.

I glance at him pointedly, raising an eyebrow. "Jack, you  _are_  old." Dad snorts back a laugh from where he's been pretending not to listen.

"Hey, don't be laughing, Gramps," Jack says, turning to glare at Dad even while he's grinning. "Thirty-two is a helluva lot younger than sixty."

"I'm fifty-four, thank you," Dad replies without looking up from the newspaper he's not actually reading.

Shaking his head, Jack turns back to me and his voice drops again. "So, are you and Tina…?" He trails off, but I don't need the rest of the sentence to figure out where this is going.

"Together? Sort of," I agree with a shrug. "We're going to try, anyway. See if what we had is still there."

"Oh, it's there." Jack's assured statement makes me glance up at him curiously. He has a knowing smirk on his face. "Shorty, you know I don't put a whole lot of stock in all those gooey romantic notions, so if I'm telling you this then you know it's true. What you and Tina have, that's the sort of thing that doesn't go away. As long as you're both still willing to work at it, you'll do fine." He glances in the direction of the kitchen, and his smirk softens into a genuine smile. "I mean, look at me and Di. Sure, she broke my nose when we got pregnant, but thirteen years, three psychotic sons, one abrupt relocation, six years of me being on the road for games, and two deployments later, we're still together. When you find the one that's meant to last, it does."

I regard him thoughtfully for a second and then laugh. "Wow, Jackie, the family life has turned you into a sap."

Jack laughs and smacks me in the back of the head before I can duck. "Shut up, Midget, you know I'm right." I reach over to smack him back but he dodges me. Laughing, we're quickly reduced to vainly trying to slap the other while simultaneously trying to block the swings coming at us. Admittedly, we're kind of acting like my seven- and eight-year-old nephews.

"Alright, easy on the rough-housing, boys," Dad says with faked exasperation. "Jackson, quit picking fights with your brother. You know he'll win." Considering my brother is a pro baseball player and a Navy Marine, that's highly doubtful. Not to mention the whole wheelchair thing. Still, we both just smile and hold our hands up in surrender.

Before we can start in on another topic, the sound of laughter makes both of us look up. Mom, Diane, and Tina are all coming into the room. My eyes immediately fix on Tina and, although her eyes look red-rimmed, she is smiling. It's only now that I realise just how long they've actually been in there and I find myself wondering what they were talking about. I can venture a few guesses, but frankly, there are a lot of things they could have talked about that would make Tina weepy-eyed. And Mom too, now that I look. Even Diane looks a bit heartbroken beneath her bright smile.

"Well everyone," Mom says, managing to draw everyone's attention except my oldest nephew, Mark. Rolling his eyes, Jack leans over and plucks the earphone from his son's ear, making him look up with a scowl before he realises what's happening. "How about one game before bed?" Mom suggests, and it shocks no one when everyone agrees without argument. My family is weird like that, we're one of those strange crowds that actually enjoy doing things together.

We pass the next hour and a half playing several rounds of  _Uno_  in a circle on the floor of the living room, the only place apart from the dining table large enough to accommodate all of us. Destiny climbs into my lap to play on 'my team' since she's not quite old enough to understand how to play on her own. Instead, she helps everyone else by accidentally announcing what cards I have in a carrying whisper.

"Okay, Dee, which one?" I ask, glancing down at the two remaining cards in my hand, the closest I've gotten to winning in all four games.

Destiny looks from them to the discard pile and then back, her brow furrowing in confusion. "But Daddy, they're both blue," she points out. Several of my family members can't fight back their laughter any longer at this, Tina among them, and I smile as well as I just give in and toss a seven card onto the pile, muttering a half-hearted, "Uno." Halfway around the circle, my nephew Chris smirks at me victoriously as he changes the colour to yellow, and by the end of the game, I'm once again clutching an enormous pile of cards.

"I am apparently terrible at this game," I say with a laugh as I hand my cards over to Jack, who is gathering the deck.

"Am I?" Destiny asks, looking up at me with her gaze full of worry.

"Not at all, Dee. I'm pretty sure everyone here would agree that you're the best at this game," I say and get a lot of eager agreement from around the room.

"Alright, well I don't know about you young, spry things," Dad shoots a meaningful glance at Jack that makes both of us bite back laughter, "but this old man is beat."

"Okay boys, out we go," Jack says, standing up and ushering his kids towards the back door. "We gotta get outta here so Grandpa can get his beauty sleep."

"Camping in the wild, dangerous nature of the backyard again?" I ask with a laugh.

"Yeah well, I'm a stickler for tradition," he replies with a smirk. "Besides, that way when the tornados wake up, they can just hop out of the tent and run around the yard instead of wreaking havoc in the house. We are  _not_  having a repeat of that incident from last Christmas. I'd rather like my limbs to remain attached to my body."

"Artie, your bedroom's been made up for you," Mom says, side-stepping as the two youngest boys fly past her. "And Tina, we weren't sure, so the guest room has fresh linens."

Tina glances down at me and then turns back to Mom with a smile. "We'll be fine, thanks," she says. I'm not sure, but I think something bright flickers to life in Mom's eyes at that. Maybe it's just the long day getting to me.

"Momma," Destiny says, tugging on Tina's wrist and drawing out the word into a plea. "Can I sleepover with Aunt Lizzie? She saids she's gonna make up a pwincess fort! Can I, can I?"

"Of course you can," Tina says and then looks over at Lizzie. "As long as Aunt Liz knows what she's getting herself into."

"Are you kidding?" Lizzie says excitedly. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for there to finally be another girl in this family? Our boy-to-girl ratio has been  _way_ off base for too long now."

Laughing, everyone exchanges goodnights. The volume in the house drops drastically when the back door closes behind Jack's family. My parents make a point of welcoming Tina one more time and dote a little on Destiny before wishing her goodnight too and escaping down the hall to their room. I recognise the look in my dad's eye, and I can't hide my amusement; it's the same way he looks at Lizzie, who is his little angel. One evening and Dad is already completely wrapped around my daughter's finger. She's frighteningly good at that.

Tina and I go get our bags from my van, and by the time we get back, Destiny and Liz are already hard at work draping sheets across Liz's furniture. Not wanting to disturb their fun, we leave Destiny's bag with Lizzie so she can get her ready for bed and wish them both goodnight. After Destiny kisses us both, Liz engulfs Tina in yet another enormous hug before finally turning her attention to me.

"About time you give your favourite brother a proper greeting," I say with a laugh as I hug her back. "It's only taken how many hours?"

"Sorry, Artie," she says, at least bothering to look contrite for a moment. "That's what you get for bringing people cooler than you this year."

"Cooler than Daddy?" Destiny asks in a tone that implies that's the most shocking news she's ever heard.

We all laugh, and Lizzie stoops to give me one more, quick hug. "Night, Dork," she says affectionately.

"Night, Monster," I reply. Warning Destiny one last time to behave for her aunt, Tina and I finally make it the rest of the way down the hall to my old bedroom. When Tina pushes open the door in front of me, she stops short. "Oh, right, this room is the one that's changed a bit," I add as an afterthought. I forgot that when I moved out and took most of my things with me, my parents redecorated a bit and the room ended up a little more neutral and guest-friendly.

"I would say," Tina agrees, walking in and laying her bag at the foot of the bed. "It's so… un-Artie-ish."

I smirk as I follow her in, setting my bag beside hers. "Did you just turn my name into an adjective?"

She grins back as she sits down on the corner of the bed. "Maybe," she says coyly. "Maybe not." Any other witty retorts she might have are cut off by a yawn. "I'm too sleepy to know," she finishes with a laugh.

"Yeah, I think maybe everyone else had the right idea with that sleep thing," I joke. She smiles playfully as she comes around and starts rummaging through her bag for her pyjamas. I've just drawn my own clothes out of my bag when she straightens up, and out of the corner of my eye, I see her worrying the shirt in her arms nervously. "Tee, I'm not going to be offended if you go change in the bathroom," I say, glancing over my shoulder.

She doesn't even look surprised that I've once again predicted what she was thinking. "It's silly, isn't it?" she asks with a laugh that sounds hesitant. "I mean being nervous about something like that. It's not like there's anything we haven't seen, right?"

"With a normal couple, yeah, that would probably be weird," I admit with a one-shouldered shrug. "But we're not normal. I think we discussed that at some point, or maybe I'm thinking of someone else." She smiles at my facetious off-handedness, the tension in her face softening. "Honestly, Tina, just whatever makes you comfortable."

She fidgets with the clothing for a second longer and then genuinely smiles. "Thank you, Artie," she says and bends. I expect her to kiss my cheek again, so I'm surprised when I feel her lips brush mine for a lingering moment. Not long enough for me to actually react, but still. There's pink in her cheeks again when she straightens up and then slips into the adjoining bathroom.

A shy, satisfied smile sneaks onto my face as I toss my pyjamas onto the bed and then transfer my body over after them. I'm only half paying attention to what I'm doing as I tug off my shoes and start manoeuvring my lower half out of my jeans. It's been a wild ride of a day, but despite my overly curious family and the palpable buzz of unanswered questions swirling through the house, somehow it feels like Tina and I are gaining ground. I shift my body weight to pull my pyjama pants up over my hips, thinking that somehow the very thing I secretly feared might cause Tina to withdraw more is actually making her more relaxed.

Maybe all she's really needed was to feel like part of a family again. To have somewhere she fits in and where she knows she belongs.

I've just pulled my shirt off my head when I hear the door to the bathroom open. Straightening my glasses, I glance over and take in the sight of Tina in her now familiar pyjamas as she lazily twists her hair into a braid. "Wow, I hadn't noticed but is it possible you got even more ripped?" she asks with a devious smirk, eyeing me appraisingly.

"No, I've pretty much always looked like an Adonis," I deadpan even as I feel heat crawling up my neck. To cover it, I seize my other shirt and hastily slide it on. When I re-emerge from behind the collar of the shirt, Tina has crossed the room, and she settles herself down on the edge of the bed beside me. She watches me expectantly for a moment, and then comprehension suddenly lights in her eyes, and she scoots to the other side of the bed, nearest the wall.

"Right, I forgot," she says with a smile. "You have to be closest to the edge."

"Unless you don't mind me dragging my ass over the top of you if I need to get up in the middle of the night," I agree, laughing. "I'm not sure even you could sleep through that." I haul my legs up onto the mattress and push myself up toward the pillows. Tina carefully moves the blankets out from underneath us and nudges my leg back into place when the movement causes it to slide dangerously close to the edge of the bed. Pulling the blanket over us both, she lays down on her side next to me, tucking her arm beneath her pillow to prop her head up.

"You were right," she whispers, catching me off guard. I raise a questioning eyebrow. "About your family. Not hating me. They've all been really, _really_ sweet." She blinks rapidly when her eyes get misty at this, but she quickly dissolves into laughter at the very obvious 'told you so' look I give her. She shoves my shoulder, and I grin.

"What were you girls gossiping about in the kitchen?" I ask curiously before I can stop myself.

She lets out a slightly watery chuckle. "I was giving them the abridged version of a Shakespearean tragedy," she says with a crooked twist in her smile.

"MacBeth or Hamlet?" I ask, playing along.

"Cohen-Chang," she answers, the levity still on her face even though her eyes are starting to take on that look they get when she is disappearing into that dark place in her memory. That look that makes my chest ache. I reach over and lightly trace my fingertips over her cheek. She blinks a few times in surprise, but it does the trick of bringing her back.

"Don't think about it, Tee," I say gently. "It's over. You're here, surrounded by people that care about you. You're safe now."

Her lower lip trembles ominously, but she nods and tilts her face into my palm. She presses her eyes closed, and I see a single tear river over her temple and into her hair. I increase the pressure with my hand just slightly, and she obligingly scoots closer, tucking her cheek against my chest and loosely holding onto me. Wrapping my arms around her, I can feel the tremors travelling through her body. "Thank you," she breathes, and even if her voice is shaky, it's full of sincerity.

I just nod and continue to move a hand in slow circles across her back. My eyes sting just thinking about her pain, and I vaguely wonder when this change in my mindset came around; when I stopped feeling sorry for myself and started feeling sorry for her instead. Either way, I can feel a spot of dampness against my chest where her face is resting, and I whisper, "It's okay, you're okay," until the shudders fade into stillness.

My free hand sets my glasses on the bedside table and then carefully brushes a strand of loose hair off her sleeping face. "I promise it, Tee, I'm not going to let anything hurt you again. You're safe." She hums in her sleep, her hand fisting in the fabric of my shirt. I kiss the top of her head and relax my head back into the pillows, my eyes drifting shut with my hand still rubbing her back languidly.


	31. Guilty Fantasies

I jerk awake abruptly, my eyes frantically scouring my surroundings in the half-light filtering into the room. It takes a minute for me to figure out where exactly I am, the visions of my dreams hanging in front of my eyes like a veil and distorting the images I'm actually seeing. When the fog in my mind finally clears, I let my head fall back onto the pillow again, sighing.

Everything's okay. This is just my old bedroom in my parents' house, and Tina is still curled up securely against my side, fast asleep. It was all just a dream.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I realise there is no way I'm going to be able to fall back asleep now, not with the burst of adrenaline from my dream flowing through me. I grab for my glasses, nearly knocking them to the floor in the process, and when I've got them on, I glance at the clock on the bedside table. Not even seven in the morning yet.  _Great_.

I try to keep quiet as I carefully disentangle myself from Tina, being extra cautious not to wake her. Once I've freed myself from her grip, I sit up and scoot toward the edge of the bed. A sleepy grumble makes me freeze, and it's only then that I realise that one of Tina' legs is threaded through mine.

"Artie?" Tina mumbles groggily.

"Sorry Tee, I didn't mean to wake you," I whisper. "Just go back to sleep."

She pushes herself up on an elbow, ignoring me. After she rubs the sleep out of them, her eyes are soft and concerned in the dim light. "What's the matter?"

"What makes you think something's wrong?" I ask, trying to sound casual.

She smiles faintly and says, "Because you  _never_  wake up first." I can't help but laugh at that. "So what's wrong?"

"It's nothing, Tee, don't worry about it," I say. "I just can't sleep. I was going to try and leave before I woke you up, but obviously that failed."

I flinch in surprise when I feel her hand on my forearm. "Artie, please, don't push me out like this." My stomach twists with guilt at the hurt and pleading in her eyes. It's not that I don't want to be able to talk to her, I just really don't want to talk about this. I know how badly it'll affect her.

"Really, it's nothing big," I try. "It was just a dream."

"What about?" she presses gently, sitting up to face me.

I hesitate and bite my lip, trying to find a way to say it. "Shakespearean tragedies," I offer vaguely. Her eyes widen and then as she processes it, I can see the remorse wash into her gaze. She nods weakly and lowers her eyes to where her hand is resting on my arm.

"I'm sorry," she says thickly.

"No, Tee, you don't understand," I say, desperation and frustration escaping me in equal measure. "I'm the one who's sorry." This makes her look up again immediately. "I'm sorry that you ever had to go through what you've been through in the last five years. I'm sorry because it's all my fault."

"Artie, no –"

"It is," I insist. "Everything, all of what I went through and every one of those hardships you've had to face, all of it came from the fact that I was too jaded to think straight. If I'd just been smarter, just taken precautions, just in case, then none of this ever would have happened." My breathing is feeling ragged as I pull my free hand through my hair, trying to concentrate even as the images of my dreams come back to me and blur what I'm seeing.

"I should have been more careful. I had no idea whether I could get you pregnant and no one could give me a definite answer. After all those years, I was sick of getting my hopes up just to watch them all crash down around me again. So I pretended I knew, that they had said it would never happen. I reasoned that that way, if it did happen someday, then it would feel like some amazing miracle, but if it didn't, then I wouldn't be let down. It was stupid of me, and even more so because you're the one who suffered for it. I never wanted to see you get hurt, Tee, and in the end, I was the one who caused it all."

"Artie Abrams, you stop it right now!" Her sharp command is so sudden that for a second, all I can do is blink at her in shock. She is glaring at me fiercely, her eyes narrowed and her lips pulled into a tight, white line. It's intimidating enough that I instinctively shrink back just slightly. This seems to startle her, and her expression eases a little even with the staggering glare still in her eyes. Reaching up with her free hand, she settles her palm onto the curve of my cheek, and when she brushes a thumb over my cheekbone, I'm surprised to feel the warm wetness I hadn't noticed before. "This is not your fault."

"But I –"

"No," she says firmly, silencing me with a pointed look. "No, Artie, it's not. All of this happened because two crazy kids fell in love and one of them just happened to have psychotic parents."

"But they never would have done it if I–" The rest of my sentence gets cut off when Tina leans forward and presses her lips to mine. Once again, I just blink in surprise.

Pulling back, she smiles a little and asks, "What part of 'stop' don't you understand?" I'm not exactly sure why or how, but I smile too. She slides closer to me until her hip is flush with my legs and I can feel her breath on my jaw as she stares me down. "I knew just as well as you did what we were doing back then," she says, slowly and deliberately, as if making sure that I can't misunderstand a single syllable. "I knew that we weren't being cautious, and I knew that if I wanted to. I could've just said something to you and you'd have been willing to fix it. But I never did.

"It was sort of a silly fantasy of mine, but I always figured that if it were meant to happen for us, then it would. I wanted a family with you, Artie, and I wanted it to happen whenever and however fate wanted to let it happen. No, I never expected it to be before we graduated. But that night, when I found out and sent you that text asking you to come over the next day, do you know what my dominant feeling was? I was  _happy_. I was uncertain and nervous about your reaction, and I was definitely scared about the prospect of actually being pregnant, but above all that, I was happy."

Her free hand slips into my lap and finds one of mine, weaving our fingers together. "No one could have anticipated my parents reacting the way they did," she says, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I had seen all the crazy things they'd done over the years, but even in my wildest dreams, I hadn't expected them to do what they did. And what happened to me at St. Agnes' is their fault, and theirs alone."

I realise it's incredibly hard to suck in a breath and that I'm shaking. I search frantically for words, any words to sum up what's going through my head, but I can't. Closing my eyes, I lean my head into her hand and try to steady my breathing.

"Artie," she says gently, and then doesn't continue until I finally open my eyes again and look down at her face. "Never apologise for getting me pregnant," she says with a note of finality. It takes me a second to notice that her eyes look exceptionally bright. "Think of Destiny and then try and tell me you're sorry for that. Can you do that? Can you say that you're sorry about her being in this world?"

I don't even have to think about it before I have my answer, but my breathing is so shaky the only response I can give is to shake my head. How could I ever say that I didn't want my daughter? That I would be willing to make her go away if it would clear away all of the pain Tina and I have gone through? There's nothing in the world I would take in exchange for Destiny.

Tina lifts her hand from my cheek to wipe away the tears and then she pushes some of my hair away from my forehead delicately. "What was your dream?" she asks carefully.

"I promised myself I'd never let anyone hurt you again," I say in a staggered rush, my tight throat cutting the words into fragments as I try to hurry them out before I lose my nerve. "But then you were hurting, and you needed me, and I couldn't do anything to stop it. I wanted to, so much, but there was nothing I could do, and you just kept hurting and asking me for help that I couldn't give." I swallow hard, hastily rubbing my free hand over my cheeks. It's embarrassing thinking about just how much time I've spent crying in the last few weeks. When did I become so emotional?

For a moment Tina just watches me, the whirling emotions in her eyes going around too fast for me to make any sense of them. Then she slips her arms around me, and I don't hesitate in wrapping my arms around her tightly and burying my face into her neck. I may not understand what's going on, but I know this is the place where we're both safe.

I focus on calming my breathing and getting myself back under control. It takes a few minutes before the burning in my eyes lessens to a dull itch. It still feels like there's something caught in my chest, but at least now when I exhale it doesn't sound wet and shaky. I loosen my grip around Tina, realising I've been trying to crush her for the last few minutes, and she leans back to survey my face again. It shouldn't, but it surprises me when I see the gleaming tracks over her cheeks.

Lifting one hand, I brush her tears away with my thumb and then dry my own face with the back of my hand. My hand falls back into my lap and seconds later, hers is laced in mine again. I examine them for a moment, admiring the way her delicate, tapered fingers lay between my thick, scarred knuckles, and then look up at her face. She smiles at me, that small sideways grin that was once upon a time reserved for only me.

The words I've thought a dozen times over the last few days but have yet to actually say balance on the end of my tongue. I know they're true and that saying them to her wouldn't be a lie. I would mean them every bit as much as I did when I'd said them to her that last day in the hospital. But after a second's deliberation, I swallow them. Not now. Not yet. Not like this.

Tina pulls back from me and I watch in confusion, but she only lays back down on the bed and then pats the spot beside her. "We should go back to sleep," she says. "It's way too early to be up. And it's Liz's birthday, so heaven knows we're going to need all the energy we can get."

I grin as I slide myself back into my spot, laying down next to her. She lifts my glasses from my face and leans over me to set them on the nightstand, and then curls into my side, drawing the blankets back up over us. For all I hadn't thought I'd be able to go back to sleep after my dream, I sure am tired enough now.

So naturally, right on cue, I hear a loud whoop coming from outside, followed by laughter. Groaning, I drape my free arm over my face and grumble, "Chris and Corey are awake." There goes any chance of us getting sleep.

"This early?" Tina asks incredulously, her voice muffled as she buries her face in my side.

"I have no idea how they do it, but they rise with the sun every freaking day," I say. "And once they're up, everyone is up."

"Does that mean we have to get out of bed?" she asks even as she continues to nestle herself more comfortably where she's at.

Smiling, I adjust my arm around her shoulder and shake my head. "Not with how lazy I'm feeling this morning," I answer. "I have absolutely no intention of getting out of this bed before Mom starts shouting about breakfast."

Tina laughs. "Sounds like a plan to me."

The noise from outside has gotten louder, meaning that Mark is now awake and, as per usual, he's not happy about it. Despite this, it doesn't actually take all that long before Tina's breathing slows and her body relaxes in my arms. Trying to tune out the sound, I let out a heavy breath and allow my muscles to uncoil. It's been a trying morning, and I can definitely use a little time to unwind.

A knock at the door pulls me abruptly out of the half-sleep daze I was just settling into. "Artie, Tina, breakfast is ready if you're up for it," my mom says through the door.

I groan loudly, and Tina laughs into my shoulder. "We're on our way," she answers for us, still smiling. I hear Mom heading back down the hallway and shift my arm off my eyes to glance over at Tina. "So much for sleeping," she says.

"Yeah, you'd think you'd have remembered that there's no such thing as a real night's sleep when my family is involved," I mumble groggily.

She sits up and examines me with a smirk. "Artie, it looks more like you're the one who forgot that."

"It's wishful thinking," I admit as I push myself into a sitting position. She hands me my glasses before getting up and walking around to where our bags are still sitting. I don't even get the chance to say anything before she straightens up again and tosses an armful of clothing onto the mattress. I laugh when I realise it's mine. She takes her own clothes and smiles at me before walking into the bathroom.

Shaking my head, I set about changing into the fresh set of clothes that she's pulled out for me. Just as I've tugged on the shirt, I happen to glance up and realise she's left the bathroom door open, and from here I can see her bare back reflected in the mirror as she takes off her tank top. Suddenly remembering how to dress myself becomes a lot more complicated.

I'm still working on getting my jeans pulled up when she steps back into the room, combing through her hair with her fingers. For a second she looks like she's going to ask if I need help, but then she bites her tongue and focuses on pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail. When she glances at me again, she's smiling. "Hurry up, Pokey," she teases. "I'll try to save you a cup of coffee before the birthday girl drinks it all, 'kay?"

"Alright, I'll be there in a minute," I say. "Try not to lose any limbs fighting the coffee away from Liz." She smirks and then regards me for a moment. When she crosses the room and presses a good morning kiss to my lips, this time I'm prepared enough to actually reciprocate for once. "Are you sure we need to go down to breakfast?" I ask with a grin, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Tina laughs and pushes my shoulder before turning for the door. She stops in the doorframe, a playful smile on her face. "Yes, we do," she says insistently. "I smell pancakes." And with that statement, she closes the bedroom door behind her.

Grinning, I go back to getting dressed. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realise that I've nearly forgotten about my dream, the images fading into blurred recollections. Really though, all I really care about at the moment is getting out there before the rest of my family has polished off the morning coffee.

And the fact that this was the fourth time Tina kissed me in the last twenty-four hours.


	32. Shopping for Surprises

Tina crosses her arms over her chest, cocking an eyebrow at me with a smirk on her lips. "Seriously, Artie, what's your problem?" she asks in exasperation.

"I just don't get the point," I say for the third time. "It's ridiculous. Why fix something that's not broken?" She rolls her eyes, trying not to laugh. "I like normal and original and classic. I don't see why you're so gung-ho for switching it up."

Her body is shaking with the laughter she's trying to hold back, and she presses a hand over her mouth in a further attempt to quiet herself. I wait until she manages to compose herself enough to answer. "Why are we still arguing about this?" she asks in amusement.

"Because you're weird and you think that those still qualify as Oreos," I say determinedly, glaring at the offending packages she's trying to convince me to buy.

"They  _are_ ," she says, picking one up and turning it so the label is facing me. "See, it says  _Oreo_  right there. I thought you might like them. They're Oreos  _and_  they taste like coffee. That's blending your two favourite foods together."

"Coffee is a drink," I point out, buying myself time. Tina just laughs, not at all deterred. "When I said let's swing over and grab a package of Oreos, I meant real Oreos, not your weird mocha-choca monstrosities."

"Oh c'mon, just try them," she says playfully, giving me a childish grin that makes her eyes sparkle. "You never know, you might like them."

I press my lips together tightly to kerb the instinct to bite my lower lip. She knows me too well, and she'll recognise it as a sign that she's wearing me down. Apparently she can still tell I'm caving, because she suddenly pouts, pushing her bottom lip out and trying to look naively hopeful as she shakes the package of mocha-flavoured Oreos temptingly. I sigh. "Alright, but grab a thing of the original ones too," I say. "Regardless of whether or not your psycho cookies are good, I want those."

"Have I ever told you that you're incredibly stubborn?" she asks as she turns to pluck the second package from a shelf above my head.

"The pot and the kettle, Tee," I reply with a smirk, and she laughs as she bends down to kiss my cheek. "Alright, now we'd better get back home before Mom starts getting all frantic, if she isn't already." I carefully check that the three jars of cake icing, the actual target of our impromptu shopping trip since Mom realised after putting the cake into the oven that she didn't have any, aren't about to roll out of my lap and then we turn back in the direction of the cash registers.

"She was already freaking out before we left," Tina points out, her eyes lingering on a display of chocolate bars and marshmallows laid out for s'mores before looking forward again.

"Well yeah, but I was thinking more along the lines of the frantic where she starts snapping at people for no reason and really shouldn't be trusted with kitchen utensils," I say. "I don't want Dee being terrified by her grandma so soon in." She laughs in agreement, and we round the end of the aisle, the row of registers directly ahead.

"Artie? I didn't know you were back in town!" I stop at the voice, familiar even though I haven't heard it in months, and both Tina and I swivel around. Mike Chang is standing in front of a display of firework sets, and as he takes us in, his expression goes from cheerful to awestruck. I don't have to guess twice to figure out why. "Asian?" he asks in shock, his eyes stuck on Tina.

Tina hesitates for a moment, staring right back, and then the smallest of smiles breaks out on her face as she replies, "Other Asian."

"Oh my God, it really is you," Mike says, and in movements so quick I don't even realise he's moving, he's pulled her into a bear hug. He's laughing as he steps back, letting his eyes rake over her. "This is incredible, I can't believe you're actually here. What-?" He glances sideways at me, and I shake my head ever so slightly. He catches the hint, changing tact without losing a beat. "You look really great," he says.

"Thanks," she says, her cheeks tinting. "You do too."

Mike laughs and jerks his head so his hair shifts out of his eyes. "Always," he says cockily, making us both smile. "You guys in town for the big Fourth of July thing?"

"And Liz's birthday," I agree, holding up one of the containers of frosting.

"Oh right, tell her I say happy birthday," he says quickly. "And to not eat too much cake. Just because she's the big bad birthday girl doesn't mean I'm cutting her any slack in class tomorrow."

"I'll let her know, not that she'll listen to me," I say. "What are you here for?"

His grin is mischievous as he gestures over his shoulder at the display. "Fireworks," he answers. "My cousins are coming out and we were gonna have some good wholesome patriotic holiday fun."

I snort sceptically. "Try not to start any wildfires with your wholesome fun."

"Oh please, I'm totally reformed. I'm responsible now," Mike says, eliciting an amused laugh from both Tina and I this time. He doesn't seem at all put off by the reaction. "Anyway, I should probably let you guys get back to what you're doing. I'll see you guys on the Fourth, right? Puck was telling me he's planning another jam session; you can join us this year, Tina. Quinn will be really grateful not to be the only girl in our group this time."

"We'll see you there," Tina agrees with a smile.

"Sweet!" he says enthusiastically. "Alright well, later! Oh and Tina," he adds quickly, his boyish grin softening, "it really is great to see you again."

Without a moment of hesitation, Tina steps forward and gives him a one-armed hug, still cradling the packages of Oreos in the other. "You too, Mike," she says quietly. They part, and he smiles as he gives one last farewell before turning and devoting his attention to the boxes of fireworks. She places her free hand on one of the handles of my chair as we slip into a checkout line.

"Wow, that was a surprise," she says casually as we're waiting behind a man who looks distinctly ruffled and is carrying a rather large sack of potatoes.

"Seeing Mike?" I ask, even though I know the answer.

"He hasn't changed much at all," she muses with a laugh. She shifts the cookies from one arm to the other, looking thoughtful. "You know I was obsessing so much about your family, I didn't even think about seeing our friends again."

I smile as I reach up to set the icing tubs on the conveyor belt. "Yeah, neither did I," I admit. I look up at her as she continues to stare at the rack of trashy celebrity magazines beside the register. "You okay?"

To my surprise, she just smiles. "Yeah, actually, I think I am," she says, and the genuine shock and humour in her voice tells me it must be true. We pay for our things and get back into my van in companionable silence. On getting home, we deliver the frosting to my mom, who is busy in the kitchen while Destiny is sitting on the counter and chatting excitedly, chocolate cake batter around her mouth and on the tip of her nose.

"Oh, thank goodness you're back," Mom says, gratefully digging the frosting out of the bag on my lap. "Lizzie should be home soon and I want to have this done before she gets here." I glance at the clock and see that Liz isn't supposed to be back from birthday shopping with her friends for another two and a half hours, but I decide it's safer not to comment on that. Mom turns back to Destiny and says, "Want to help me frost the cake, honey?"

"Dee, don't eat too much of that icing while you're doing it," I caution as she eagerly agrees and slides down the counter closer to Mom and the cake.

"We'll be fine," Mom says, giving me a pointed look. "You two look dead on your feet. Go relax and let me spoil my grandbaby, would you?"

"Seriously, Mom, keep an eye on her," I say with a laugh. "She's got a wicked sweet tooth." My mom just nods and then waves her hands at us, trying to shoo us out of the kitchen.

"Okay, Artie, I think your mom knows how to take care of a kid," Tina says and grabs onto the back of my chair, pulling me backwards out of the room.

"Alright, I got it, I got it," I say, try to brush her hands away so I can take over control. I don't mind her pushing me around forwards, but being pulled around backwards is a bit nerve-racking. She laughs as she turns my chair toward the hallway and pushes me down to the bedroom. "And I still don't trust her," I continue. "I vividly remember how many sweets I used to get to eat while helping her in the kitchen."

"And I'm sure it had nothing to do with that pouty face of yours that you flash whenever you don't get your way," she says sarcastically. She steps around me and toes out of her shoes as she climbs onto the bed. Once she's settled, she reaches down and snatches the bag holding the two packages of Oreos out of my lap, leaving me to pull myself up onto the bed after her.

"Well, maybe just a little," I concede, dragging my legs up after me. "But Destiny is really good at that look too. I just know she's going to wind up on a total sugar buzz all night."

When Tina doesn't respond, I glance up from arranging my legs and see that she's pulled open one of the packages, and she's staring at the cookies with a frown. "What's the matter, Tee, your mutant cookies don't have enough java?" I ask.

She shakes her head and looks up at me, her dejected pout twitching upwards at the corners. I watch as she tilts the little plastic tray slightly, revealing rows of broken and fragmented cookies. "He crushed them when he hugged me," she says and can't fight back her laugh any longer.

"Cookie murderer," I gasp dramatically. She grins around her mouthful of cookie and offers the tray toward me. I shake my head, reaching for the package of original ones on her other side, but she slaps my hand away. "Hey, and now you're going to be a cookie hoarder?"

"You said you'd try," she says, raising an eyebrow.

"So you're going to hold my good cookies hostage until I eat one of your crazy ones?" I ask, trying to hide my amusement.

"Yeah, basically," she agrees and holds a half cookie directly in front of my face. I roll my eyes but obligingly lean forward and bite the Oreo, being careful to avoid taking off her fingers. She watches me expectantly as I chew, and when I wrinkle my nose right before swallowing she laughs. "Fine, be a boring old stick in the mud," she says, handing me the other package.

"Well they aren't horrible," I admit. "They just sort of have a funny taste."

"You're just too picky," she says, shifting around until she's laying down on her side with the Oreos tucked into the curve of her body. As she munches at them, her eyes seem to be having a hard time staying open.

"And she's spooning with Oreos," I remark, regarding her thoughtfully. "Very sexy." She throws a large cookie crumb at my head, grinning. "You gonna doze off there, Tee?"

"I'm considering it," she says. "We've got two hours before your sister will be home and expect everyone to be fawning over her, so I was thinking about maybe taking a nap and getting up my energy."

"You're just jealous because it's not your birthday," I tease and even though she laughs, I see something spark deeper in her eyes. Pausing, I count back through the days. "Wait, your birthday was–"

"A blast from the past," she finishes for me with a sarcastic smile. "Yeah, kinda."

"It was that day. That first time I came to your show." My eyes widen at the realisation. "Oh God, that must have been a really shitty birthday present, having me turn up out of nowhere and freak out on you."

Tina shrugs. "I've had worse birthdays," she says in a voice of forced calm. I grimace, remembering what she said about her eighteenth birthday and thinking that she's probably telling the truth.

"Still, I'm sorry it worked out that way," I say. She glances up at me and smiles.

"Really, Artie, it's fine. I'm a big kid now, I don't really set much stock in birthdays," she says, and her tone has eased enough that I can tell she's really not that upset about it. She moves, twisting around to rest her head on my leg the way she's done since middle school.

Picking at the crumbs of Oreo in my package, I shake my head in disbelief. "Figures, the one time I forget about your birthday," I muse with a laugh.

"Second," she corrects, and I look down curiously. "Junior year."

"Oh yeah, I was trying to forget that incident," I say, blushing. "That was a nightmare, trying to figure out what I could give you last minute."

"I told you, you didn't need to get me anything," she says and then smirks as she looks up at me through her lashes. "Although your 'I'm your present' line was pretty hilarious."

"Yes, well when I said it, I really wasn't anticipating you falling to the floor laughing either," I grumble, the heat spreading down my neck. She smiles, reaching over and threading her hand through mine. I stare down at her as she blinks up at the ceiling, her eyelids heavy and a contented smile on her face. "Okay, c'mon Tina, naptime," I say, and she pries her eyes open to look up at me in interest. "You're obviously not going to stay awake much longer. Scoot up to the pillows, I'm sure they're way more comfy than my scrawny legs are."

"Not really," she says but gets up to move up to the head of the bed anyway. I just grin, knowing she's lying but trying to be nice. While she makes herself comfortable, I gather the Oreos and set them on the bedside table. "You gonna join me?" she asks curiously as I hesitate at the edge of the bed.

"You going to share the covers?" I respond jokingly.

"I'm not even under the covers," she points out with a laugh. "Besides, you're wearing jeans in July. You don't need covers."

"Alright, fair enough," I say. I bend down to take off my shoes, dropping them unceremoniously on the floor, and then slide up to lay down beside her. She smiles and gives me a quick, chaste kiss before rolling onto her side, facing away from me. Before I can ask what game she's playing, she twists back and grabs my arm, tugging me up behind her. It takes a little manoeuvring before I can get my body balanced on my side, most of my weight propped against her back. Once I'm settled, she pulls my arm tightly around her middle and then curls in on herself as much as she can without throwing off my balance.

I know what this pose means. She's feeling particularly self-conscious and looking for shelter. It's kind of amazing how these little habits haven't changed at all, even with all this time. I nestle my head more comfortably against hers and then whisper, "Seeing Mike today freaked you out more than you're letting on."

It wasn't a question, but she nods. "How many of our friends actually come back for the holiday?" she asks cautiously.

"Usually just the ones that are still here," I say. "Fourth of July isn't the sort of holiday most people travel home for. Mike, Puck, and Quinn are the only ones I see every year. Brittany comes most of the time but this year her dance classes are performing down in Chicago so she couldn't. I haven't heard from any of the rest, and they all generally make it known if they'll be in town, so I'm assuming they won't be here either."

"Oh, okay," she says, and I feel her body relax slightly.

"You know they aren't going to hate you," I say gently.

"No, I know," she says, but she doesn't sound entirely convinced. "I just really don't want to be some big spectacle. And I know I'll have to tell them all eventually," she adds before I can say it.

"Just not right now," I finish, and she nods in agreement. I tighten my arm around her, placing a soft kiss on her neck. "Okay, Tee, go to sleep." She hums lightly and nuzzles her head into the pillow, and it doesn't take very long for the rest of the tension to ease out of her muscles and her breathing to steady out. I tilt my head, burying my face in her hair, and spend a lot more time wondering just how we're going to handle the next few days.


	33. A Cliché Night

The next two days passed by in such a blur that neither Tina nor I really had much time to stress about what was to come.

After our nap – or rather Tina's nap, since I never did fall asleep – was disrupted by Destiny pouncing on us, announcing that Liz was home, the rest of the evening was consumed by the family party. My entire night was spent alternating between keeping an eye on Dee, (who, in a state of heightened blood sugar, had finally relaxed around her cousins and became the cop to their robbers), and glaring suspiciously at the tall, lanky blond guy that followed Liz like a puppy. Sure, he turned out to be a good guy, actually, but that still doesn't mean I'm down with any dude getting friendly with my baby sister. Especially after Mom made a passing joke to me about her children's apparent new tradition for teen pregnancies.

I  _accidentally_  called him Duck out of vengeance.

The next day, Dad, Jack, and I were somehow coerced into babysitting while the girls all went out shopping. What for, we didn't know. All we knew is that we guys were suddenly stuck trying to keep a rein on the still hyper children. I had thought they might have burnt off all their sugar at the party, but they managed to maintain it into the next day as well, and it was an adventure, to say the least. We employed every technique we could to keep them entertained until finally Jack broke into Lizzie's room and rooted out her old soccer ball. We tossed it out into the backyard and let the kids loose, and they set up a game of two-on-two. It was a bit of a surprise to see Mark, who is the most withdrawn and least social of the bunch, quickly recruit Destiny onto his team, and he managed to keep both Chris and Corey at bay so she could kick her first goal.

Today, Jack and Diane took their kids to a sports tournament at the park. Dad tagged along, needing to drop Lizzie off at her dance class anyway, but Tina, Destiny, and I stay home to help Mom in the kitchen. She's already hard at work cooking up salads and desserts for the neighbourhood picnic tomorrow because, for some reason, she's convinced she needs to make enough of several things to feed the entire block. I'm not all that much help, and Destiny is more of a hindrance, albeit one full of comedic relief, but Tina surprises us all by being a natural in the kitchen.

"Where'd you learn to cook so well, Tee?" I ask curiously as I watch her at the counter.

"Being out on my own, I just learned pretty quick," she answers with a shrug.

"That trick never really worked on Artie's cooking," Mom says, smiling. I laugh and go back to peeling apples in my lap, one of the few tasks I'm capable of accomplishing in a kitchen where I can barely see over the countertops.

"Although he does make an excellent grilled cheese sandwich," Tina says, turning around and flashing me a smile. It was the only meal I actually cooked during our brief stay at my house.

"I like cheese sam'iches," Destiny puts in abruptly, and we all smile. We pass the rest of the afternoon in the same manner, working our way through an extensive list of cooking tasks and talking idly. Mom regales Tina with dozens of stories of holidays passed and other trivial news, while Tina tells her all about her job in Seattle, her insufferable singing partner, and her flatmates. Even though I've already heard almost all of what she says, it feels good to see her open up and really talk to someone.

It's also nice to see the way she focuses so much on the good things while she's talking, skirting around the darker times. The longer she talks, the less often that haunted look shows up in her eyes. It's like physically seeing her moving past what happened to her and starting over.

By the time the others get home just before dinner, our throats are sore from talking and our stomachs from laughing. We – _read: Tina_ – help Mom throw together a quick dinner. Once we're all settled at the table, Jack's two youngest instantly launch into a colour commentary of their entire day. They might be a year apart, but the two of them have perfected the ability to finish each other's sentences without missing a beat, which is hilarious in itself. The only thing funnier is the occasional sarcastic comment that Mark slips in. He doesn't talk much, but when he does, he sure makes it count.

"Alright, kids," Mom says as we all double over with laughter at a sly wise crack at Dad's expense, delivered by a quietly smirking Mark. "Early night tonight. We're going to have to get up kind of early to make sure we can get a decent spot to sit for the parade."

"Out we go," Jack says, standing up and starting to shepherd his kids toward the door. "Now as long as someone," he pauses and shoots a pointed glance at his wife, "doesn't steal all the covers, I won't freeze to death in my sleep."

"No one's worried about that happening, Jackie," I chip in with a grin, and he raises an eyebrow, both at my comment and at the nickname only Mom can ever get away with using. "You're so full of hot air it'd take an Arctic blizzard to chill you out." Blocked from getting away by the mingling family members, the next thing I know my head has been trapped in Jack's arm, and he's rubbing his knuckles against my skull as I struggle to escape. Only a moment later he jumps back with a yelp, our motion having made my chair roll backwards onto his foot.

"You deserved it," I say, dragging my fingers through my hair in an attempt to fix the mess he's made. In response, he sticks his tongue out at me before caving with laughter.

"See what I told you, Jack?" Dad says, a teasing grin on his face. "Quit picking fights with your brother, he always wins."

"Well at least he didn't break any toes this time," Jack says, flexing his foot experimentally. "Coach would kill me if I had to miss any practice time when we get back because I let my baby brother bust my foot."

"Okay, Artie, let's go," Tina interjects when she sees me open my mouth to reply. She steps up behind my chair and pushes me out of the room, pausing only to accept hugs from the family members we pass. Once we finally make it to the bedroom she lets go of my chair, letting me take over.

"What'd you do that for?" I pout playfully as she shuts the door behind us. "I was having fun."

She rolls her eyes and smiles. "Because I know you two, and once you guys get going you never stop. And people in this house do need to get some sleep tonight."

"We're not  _that_  bad," I counter with a laugh, hauling myself up onto the bed. Tina raises an eyebrow sceptically, smirking, before turning on her heel and going into the bathroom with her pyjamas draped over her arm.

I pull my own pyjamas out from where I hid them beneath the pillows, and then I let my eyes drift back to the open doorway, a smile sneaking up on me when I find her reflection. This is how she's been dressing for the last couple days, although I don't know why she bothers with the pretences. I know she knows I'm watching because yesterday she glanced over her shoulder at me through the mirror and smiled before shaking her head and going back to what she was doing. I'm pretty sure she's just doing it for the pure entertainment of teasing me now.

When she turns around to come back out of the bathroom, I realise I haven't even started undressing, and my cheeks heat up as I hurriedly devote myself to the task.  _Way to be cool, Abrams._  I can hear Tina laughing quietly as she comes into the room, but I keep my concentration on manoeuvring my legs into my pyjama pants. Thankfully she spares me any further embarrassment by not commenting, just walking over and sitting down on the bed, humming under her breath as she drags a brush through her hair.

I pause in grabbing my pyjama shirt when I recognise the tune she's humming. "Elvis?" I ask in surprise, turning to her questioningly.

"If I Can Dream," she agrees with a nod. "It's one of my favourites. My grandma used to sing it when I was really little, before she died. It's always sort of stuck with me."

"I never knew that," I say thoughtfully.

She smiles. "Yes, well, not even you can possibly know absolutely everything about me," she says, laughing quietly. "I'm sure I don't know everything about you either."

"No, I know that," I say quickly. "It just seems – weird."

"You're weird," she rebuts, and I laugh. "Now would you finish putting your shirt on so I can go to bed?"

I open my mouth to make a smart-assed comment, but she gives me a pointed look and I decide not to risk it. "Woman, you're a total killjoy tonight, you know that?" I ask. She just grins at me and then leans over the foot of the bed to put away her brush. When she sits up again, I have my shirt on and I've pulled my legs up onto the mattress. She switches off the lights and then we settle into bed.

After a few seconds of staring at the ceiling, I turn my head to face her and find her watching me in the dark. "I can't believe your grandma liked Elvis," I say with a smile. "I thought she couldn't even speak English."

Tina laughs and says, "Wrong grandma, Artie."

I blush at my mistake. "Oh, right,  _that_ one."

"The other grandma wouldn't have even dreamed of singing to me," she continues. "She hated music. And me, for that matter. But Grandma Cohen used to sing me to sleep when I stayed with her while my parents were away on work. It was always Elvis music, but she really liked that song the most."

"My parents' wedding song was Elvis," I put in and see her look of surprise. " _Can't Help Falling In Love_. Apparently it was also the song on the radio the first time they kissed, but that's generally about the part of the story where I started zoning out."

"Act macho all you want, I know you were hanging on every word," she says, and I determinedly fight back the colour creeping up my neck. "We both know you're a romantic at heart. You probably know the details down to what flowers were in her bouquet."

"Seriously, Tee, you are utterly devastating my reputation with your slander," I say, barely keeping the smile off my face. "Could you at least let me retain some shred of manhood?" She looks completely unconcerned. "And it was lilies and carnations," I add in an undertone, making her smile triumphantly.

"I knew it," she says excitedly and then kisses me. "And I'm sorry for emasculating you."

"No, you're not," I reply with a laugh because that much is clearly evident in her face. "But nice try." She smiles and shrugs, not at all bothered that I called her out. We sit in the silence for a minute, just staring at each other, and then she slides closer to me. Our faces are only centimetres apart and we both hesitate. A split second later when our lips meet, I can't say for sure which one of us made the move.

We break apart hardly a second later, startled by a sudden noise. I figure out what it is first, and a surprised laugh escapes me at the horribly ironic cliché. "Fireworks," I say in answer to her questioning look, and she beams.

I place my hand on the back of her neck, pulling her toward me again. She props herself up on one elbow, giving us a less difficult angle, and deepens the kiss. Her hand brushes up the side of my face and into my hair, and I groan when the tip of her tongue coasts across my lower lip. When she moves to kiss a trail down the side of my neck, I hear the fireworks being set off in the street again, and I laugh at the same time that I feel her smiling against my skin.

My breathing gets caught in my throat when she lightly kisses the sensitive spot below my ear, and I forget entirely about silly romantic coincidences. I move my hand to her thigh, which she's draped across my waist for leverage, while my other hand is on the small of her back and pressing her body closer to mine. I shudder, although I can't really be sure whether it's from her hand slipping under the hem of my shirt or the intensity of the kiss when she brings her lips back to mine. All I do know is hot  _damn_.

The next time we separate for air, I take a second to study her face in the dark. Her hair is escaping from its plait, loose tendrils curling around her cheeks. Her impossibly dark eyes are nothing short of smouldering, and there's a smile on her lips that somehow manages to look both sweet and mischievous at the same time. I can still see all of the changes that time has wrought on her face, but somehow they only seem to make her look even more like my Tina. The Tina I always saw beneath the barriers she put up for everyone else, the one that I saw more clearly than anyone else in the world, maybe even more than she did.

"Tee," I say gently, lifting a hand and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She tilts her face into my palm, not taking her eyes from mine. "Tina, I– " I pause, my expression tensing as I try to focus.

"You what?" she asks carefully. She follows my gaze only to realise I'm staring distractedly at the ceiling over her shoulder. "What is it?"

"I think I hear someone coming," I answer in a whisper.

She frowns a little, sitting up and twisting to look over her shoulder at the door. "I don't hear anything," she says. "Are you sure you're not just hearing things?" As she says this, she traces her fingers lightly across my stomach and I have to fight against the distraction.

"No, I swear I heard it," I say firmly, pushing myself up on my elbows. "It sounded like –" Both of us freeze when the doorknob suddenly turns, and a moment later, the door swings inward. I can just barely make out the faint silhouette in the frame. "Destiny," I finish.

"Momma?" she whispers into the room, and it's clear from her tone that she's upset.

"What's the matter, Nee-nee?" Tina asks, immediately climbing off my lap and scooting toward the foot of the bed. I can't really make out what Destiny mumbles, but I am pretty sure I hear the words  _scary_   _noise_. "It's just someone down the street setting off fireworks, honey," Tina explains gently. "It's okay."

Destiny nods and then looks down at her feet dejectedly. Tina glances back at me for a second before reaching out to brush the tears off Destiny's cheeks and saying, "Do you want to sleep in here?" Not even bothering to answer, Destiny just raises her arms expectantly. I can see Tina's smile as she hoists our daughter off the floor and onto the bed.

"C'mon, Dee, I saved you a spot right here," I say, patting the mattress right beside me. Destiny crawls up the bed, snuggling down against my side, and Tina lays down on her other side. Tina puts a protective arm across Destiny, her hand resting on my stomach, and I weave my fingers into hers. It can't have even been five minutes later that Destiny is fast asleep.

I let out a dramatic sigh, and Tina looks over Destiny's head at me. Smiling faintly, I murmur, "So that's what Noah meant about kids having an ESP for when their parents are trying to get it on." Tina bites her lip to stop from laughing, and with her free hand, she flicks the side of my head.

"You've been spending too much time with Puck, you're starting to sound like as much a Neanderthal as him," she whispers.

"Oh you know you were thinking it too," I say back. She just smiles, says good night, and then settles her head down on the pillow. I watch her for a minute, seeing the way her expression softens as she drifts off, and then I look down at Destiny, curled up in a little ball between the two of us. When they're asleep, so the angles of Tina's face aren't as prominent and the colour of Destiny's eyes aren't visible, the two of them look nearly identical.

Destiny nuzzles her face against my side and Tina's grip on my fingers tightens just slightly, making me smile. Yeah, so what could have been a mind-blowing night got interrupted, but I'm not really all that heartbroken about it. I am just as content with spending the night with my girls – both of them.


	34. Independence Day

We're woken up just before six in the morning when Lizzie bursts into the room, on the verge of panic because when she woke up, she realised Destiny wasn't in her room anymore. Once that chaos is cleared up, we're informed that it was time for us to get out of bed anyway, since Mom thinks we need to be to the parade route an hour early to find a good spot. I'm sorely tempted just to roll over and go to back to sleep, because I never really have been one for parades and especially not Lima's lame excuse for one, but once I find out that Destiny has never actually been to a parade before I scrap that idea.

Just before the sun rises, our entire family is gathered in front of the cinema on the grassy strip between the pavement and road, the adults staked out in beach chairs or on blankets while the kids are perched expectantly on the cement kerb. Dad is sent to get breakfast, and he returns forty minutes later with coffee for all the adults and an enormous box loaded with different flavoured doughnuts.

By the time the parade finally reaches our end of town, the youngest kids are practically tripping over themselves in excitement. The parade is pretty boring overall, not to mention it looks the same as it did when I was in kindergarten, but watching Destiny's enthusiasm more than makes up for it.

It's also a learning experience for Tina and me: turns out our fearless daughter  _really_ hates clowns.

After the parade, our family migrates slowly down to the park just around the corner from my parents' house, where they hold an annual carnival and neighbourhood barbeque. Once at the park, everyone goes their separate ways. Mom drags Dad back to the house with her to collect the food she made, Liz disappears with a group of her friends and The Duck, and Jack's family heads off in search of carnival games. Tina and I, with Destiny perched on my lap and staring around in awe, make our way down one of the cement pathways that lead to a pavilion tucked into a corner of the park.

"So is this where you meet up with them?" Tina asks. She's trying to sounds plainly curious but I can tell she's nervous.

"Tee, you don't have to come if you don't want to," I say gently. "If you're not ready…"

She smiles and shakes her head. "I'll be fine," she says. "It's not like it's Kurt and Mercedes. These guys won't make a huge deal about it, right?" I nod my agreement, privately thinking about what she said. I have to admit she has a point; out of any of our high school friends, Kurt and Mercedes will undoubtedly be the hardest to face up to about this. Not only were they closer to Tina than the rest of the club, but they also tend to take everything at a very high intensity. That will be an interrogation to remember, for sure.

"Okay then, if you're sure," I say and pick up my pace, which I'd unconsciously slowed while waiting for her answer. When the pavilion comes into view, I instantly recognise one figure solely by the red, white, and blue bundle hanging on his back. Grinning, I cast one last glance at Tina to check that she's still all right, and then I shout, "Hey, Puckerman!"

"Uncle Wheels!" Holly shrieks instantly and twists on her dad's back to look over her shoulder. A second later, Puck turns around and his smirk falters as he spots Tina.

"Holy shit," he says, and Holly indignantly smacks him in the ear. Ignoring it, he grins again. "It's Double C!"

Even though her gaze is hesitant, she smiles and says, "Thank God you haven't reverted to calling me Stutterfly." Puck just laughs and quickly pulls her into a hug, which she returns awkwardly since his daughter is still draped over his back.

"You weren't lying," he says, glancing down at me. "I mean you told me, but I couldn't really believe it 'til now. Actually, I'm still not sure I do. This is unreal."

"You told him?" Tina asks curiously and I flush.

"Oh yeah, I forgot."

Puck rolls his eyes. "Way to go, Abrams," he jibes and laughs. His gaze slips down to Destiny. "So then this is…?"

"Our daughter," I finish for him with a nod. He lets out a heavy breath of surprise. "Destiny. Dee, this is Noah–"

"Puck."

"–he's a friend of your mom and me from school," I conclude, paying no attention to his interruption.

"From the glee?" Destiny asks, but it doesn't really sound like a question as she squints up at Puck. Both Noah and I blink in surprise, but Destiny just turns to look at Tina. "Mom, you said he gots funny hair, but he don't  _got_  no hair."

Puck laughs, running a hand back over his shaved head. "You called the 'hawk _funny_?" he asks Tina incredulously. "And I always thought you secretly found it hot."

Tina rolls her eyes but doesn't even bother to answer the question. Holly, pouting at being ignored, prods her dad in the side of the neck determinedly. "Oh, right," he says, hoisting her higher onto his back. "Holly, you probably don't remember her, but this is Tina."

"The one with the pretty coloured hair in the pictures," Holly says and flashes Tina a smile. "I liked it, but Mom says I can't put colours in my hair 'til I'm bigger. And Dad said if Mom says no then he gotta say no too or else she'll kick him, which sounds mean but I've never seen her do it, so I think it's really just a joke. Are you Uncle Wheels' girlfriend?"

Puck looks like he's torn between sighing in exasperation and laughing. "Um…" Tina glances sideways at me, her eyebrows raised questioningly. When I just shrug with one shoulder and grin, she smiles in response. "Yeah, that'd be a good way to put it," she agrees.

Holly beams. "Good, he needs a girlfriend 'cause he ain't had one in, like,  _ever_ ," she says. This time Puck isn't torn; he starts laughing so hard Holly looks annoyed at the movement.

"Thanks, Hols, I appreciate it," I say dryly, but even Tina is laughing by this point and, though my ears are red, I join in. "You know, I think you and Dee are going to get along just great."

"Is she my cousin?" Holly is eyeing Destiny curiously, and Dee is returning the look with interest.

"You could say that," Puck answers, finally getting his amusement under control. Holly's face lights up at the prospect. Before we can say anything more, there's a shout, and I turn just in time to see Mike jog up next to Puck.

"Heya, I'm back," he greets excitedly, with all the energy of a puppy. He sees Tina and his grin widens. "I was hoping I'd see you guys again today, and I – whoa." He stops when he sees Destiny and I can see the pieces click into place in his head. After all, anyone who looks between the three of us can tell we're related.

What does surprise me is when Tina speaks up before I can figure out the words. "Mike, this is our daughter, Destiny," she says. One of her hands slips onto my shoulder and squeezes, the only sign that she's anxious. It's another one of those moments where her new-found strength leaves me stunned. "Nee-nee, this is Mike. He's another friend from the glee club." Destiny smiles up at him, looking a little put off by his wide-eyed stare. Puck whispers something I can't hear, but it makes Holly grin and she reaches over to slap the back of Mike's head.

"Ow," he says indignantly, glaring at Puck for a moment before turning his attention back to us. "Cool," he says, smiling again. "Nice to meet you." Then he looks around. "Where's Quinn?"

"She wandered off to help her neighbour with something," Puck says and shrugs. "She said she'll be back soon. And yes, before you ask, she did make brownies."

"Sweet!" Mike cheers. "Alright, well are we gonna get this jam on or not?" Puck nods and heads back to the pavilion, where he lowers Holly off his back.

"Daddy, are you gonna play music?" Destiny asks eagerly when she sees Puck pull a guitar out of a case.

"Yes, he is," Tina answers for me and when I look up, she's smiling. "So why don't you come with me, and we can go find a spot to sit and listen?" Destiny nods and places a quick kiss on my cheek before Tina lifts her onto her hip. Just as I make to start pushing myself forward, Holly appears in front of us.

"I brought some colour books," she says boldly, lifting the bright yellow tote bag she's hefting, her eyes fixed on Destiny. "Do you wanna colour with me? I ain't had no cousins before, but it'll be fun, and we can do pictures, and you can share my crayons. Some are broke, but they still colour good." I smirk at Holly's inability to say anything concisely, but at the same time, I appreciate the sweet gesture. Destiny smiles and nods, and when Tina sets her down, she approaches Holly without any of the previous hesitancy.

"You coming, Wheels?" Puck calls and I tear my eyes away from the chatting kids to push myself into the pavilion. He hands me one of his guitars, since I never bring my own for this because hauling it around with me all day is a nightmare, and hangs the strap of another over his shoulders. We both look back at Mike, who is sitting on the edge of one of the picnic tables that's pushed out of the way, and he grins and flashes a thumbs up.

"We gonna start with the Aerosmith one again like last year?" he asks, hopping down off the table and coming to stand between us. We never have a proper set list for our now annual Fourth of July gig, but we quickly discovered that all three of us love classic rock and it's a good genre of music for this sort of thing. It's a little chaotic sometimes, picking our songs spur of the moment at the finish of the last one, but that's half the fun.

"Sounds good to me," Puck agrees, and I nod as well. With one last check of the equipment, Puck strikes up the first chord and I quickly join in. Who takes the lead on each verse is decided by nodding at each other, and it's only to be expected that we have a couple of screws up with forgotten lyrics since we don't rehearse. It's no problem though since everyone in the neighbourhood knows us and that we are only doing it for fun.

We do manage to draw decent crowds, the people filtering by occasionally stopping for a few songs. Mike takes the chance to show off his dancing for half the songs, once or twice joined by one of his students in a bit of a freestyle battle. Most of my attention is diverted to glancing over at where Tina is sitting, with Destiny and Holly sprawling on the grass in front of her. She's smiling, and when she meets my eye, she grins encouragingly.

Over the next hour, Puck and I burn our way through a random collection of Aerosmith, Queen, KISS, and a couple more obscure songs from bands that have faded into the background except in the minds of our parents. At some point when I look over at Tina, I see her talking to a familiar looking blonde, who turns out to be Quinn. I miss more than one note watching them, but everything seems to be going well. They're just talking, with the occasional laugh and quite a few hugs. I glance up at Puck and see he's looking that way too. He meets my eye and smirks before nodding and turning his focus back to his guitar.

Four songs later, we call it quits for the day, the handful of people still lingering in front of the pavilion clapping enthusiastically. Puck and I just grin while Mike shamelessly starts handing out fliers for his dance classes. I hand the guitar off to Puck, and not two seconds later, Destiny has leapt into my lap.

"That was so cool!" she declares excitedly, sitting up on her knees to wrap her arms around my neck tightly.

"You liked the show, did you?" I ask, laughing as I hug her back.

She draws back and places a wet, noisy kiss on my cheek. "My daddy's a rockstar!" she says proudly, beaming that huge, gap-toothed smile, before promptly throwing her arms around my neck again. I smile and when she lets go, I turn her around so she's sitting on my lap, and then push us out of the pavilion. I stop at the edge of the pavement nearest where Tina is standing talking to Quinn. Destiny immediately climbs off my lap and runs over to sit with Holly.

"Hello, ladies," I say, and they both turn to smile at me.

"Artie, it's so good to see you again," Quinn says, hastily bending down and giving me a sideways hug. "You were great up there. As always."

"Oh c'mon, don't fatten up my ego," I joke, feeling the heat creeping up the back of my neck. "Was that what you girls were chatting about the whole time?"

"Catching up," Quinn answers, exchanging smiles with Tina. "Bragging about our girls. Complaining about work. Wondering why that bespectacled guitarist wouldn't stop staring at us." I swear, my neck might be on fire right now. "You know, just girl talk."

"Then I suppose I should be relieved you weren't talking about me," I say with a laugh.

Tina grins and steps up next to my chair. "Don't worry, Artie, I wasn't spilling any of your dirty little secrets," she says teasingly, making Quinn laugh behind her hand.

"Yeah, that would require me  _having_  any," I point out. Quinn smiles but is distracted by Holly calling her over eagerly. When she goes to kneel down beside her daughter, I turn to look up at Tina again. "I'm assuming things went okay?"

"Yeah, they did," she agrees. "Apparently Puck had already told her you'd found me in Seattle, so that lessened the blow for her." She pauses and raises a questioning eyebrow at me. "When  _did_  you talk to Puck about this?"

"That day you were bringing Dee over for the first time," I admit. "I was really confused and just needed someone to talk to, and then when he called, well actually Holly called, I ended up telling him. I'd honestly forgotten I'd even talked to him until he mentioned it today."

Once again, Mike prevents any further discussion by jumping into the conversation. "What do you say we all go check out this carnival?" he asks eagerly. "I saw your Mama Bear walk by earlier, which means the good food's arrived, and I'm gonna get me some before everyone else steals it. You guys game?"

Tina and I exchange glances and smile. "Sure, food sounds great," I agree. We wrangle the rest of our group together, apart from Puck who's disappeared to stow his guitars in his car, and together we set off to explore the carnival.


	35. This Is It

We pass the afternoon in a companionable blur as our little group wanders aimlessly around the carnival. While Destiny and Holly talk to each other at speeds so fast I can't actually follow most of it, the rest of us get caught up on what's happened since we last saw each other and reminisce about high school. Everything seems to be going great, which in hindsight probably should have been my first indicator that something wasn't right.

We're lingering in the shade of a tree, enjoying a break from the summer heat, when Tina abruptly stands up and excuses herself. "I'll be right back I just – restrooms," she stammers out quickly and then turns and walks away. I watch her until she's out of sight and then look back at the group. No one else seems that concerned, a little curious maybe at most, but then they don't know her as well as I do. Shaking it off, I convince myself I'm just paranoid and overprotective. Mike draws me back into the conversation, and I continue to ignore the funny little twist in my chest.

Fifteen minutes later when Tina isn't back yet, I force my increasingly jittery hands to still and look over at Quinn. "Do you mind keeping an eye on Destiny for me for a few minutes?" I ask, trying to mask my anxiousness. She seems to understand and nods, giving me a sympathetic look. After I explain to Destiny where I'm going, and she agrees to stay with Holly until I come back, I turn and head off in the direction Tina went.

It's harder work getting myself across the short grass without Tina helping me, but I still manage. I know that I'm probably getting paranoid but I can't get rid of that nagging feeling in my stomach and I've learned by now it's safer not to ignore it.

The line of porta-potties at the edge of the park make me instinctively shudder, but my eyes are drawn to a splash of red several yards to the right. Tina is sitting beneath a tree, her legs folded up to her chest and her head tilted back against the trunk. My relief at finding her is instantly wiped away by worry.

"Long lines?" I ask jokingly when I'm within earshot. She must have heard me coming because she doesn't jump, just smiles without opening her eyes.

"No, I was just resting for a minute," she answers. "I ate too much and my stomach was feeling gross. Figured I'd stay close until it passed."

"Ew," I say with a laugh, and she smiles again.

"What brings you over?" she asks lightly. "I know you wouldn't be caught dead in one of those." She gestures vaguely in the direction of the porta-potties and I shudder again.

"Just making sure you hadn't fallen in," I say off-handedly. "You're graceful like that." She smirks but doesn't bother to respond. I hesitate for a second before asking, "You okay?"

"I feel like a stranger," she admits quietly. I'm taken aback at just how readily she opened up to me; lately, it's taken a bit more persuasion than simply asking the question. "I mean, even though I know everyone, I've missed so much that I feel like I don't actually know them anymore. And they know me even less. I hate feeling like a stranger with my own friends."

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, still without moving from the way she's sitting. "I know it's just going to take time, and that eventually everything will smooth out and be normal again. I just kinda wish I could fast forward to that point."

I stare at her in awe as she falls silent, and then I laugh quietly. "Well, clearly I'm not needed here since you seem to have everything figured out on your own."

She laughs and finally opens her eyes, looking up at me. "I appreciate you listening anyway. It does help," she says. Taking another deep breath, she stands up and brushes grass off her pants. "Okay, I'm better, let's get back."

She steps up behind my chair, and with both of us pushing we make it back to where our group is sitting in half the time it took me to make the trip alone. I immediately notice that Destiny is looking bleary-eyed and a little sulky, hugging the purple monkey I won for her at ring toss to her chest tightly. "Uh oh, someone's looking tired," I murmur and Tina laughs.

"I'm surprised she's lasted this long, actually," she says. "Her normal naptime was over an hour ago."

"Hey, look who made it back," Puck yells when he spots us. "What's'a matter? Fall in?"

"Got lost," Tina answers with a laugh.

"But we're gonna head home for a bit now. Someone needs a nap," I say.

Destiny scowls and whines, "I'm not sleepy."

Tina smiles. "I think your dad was talking about him," she says, playfully nudging my shoulder.

"She's not joking," I agree. "I'm beat."

"C'mon, honey, let's go home and let your dad sleep," Tina says. "We'll come back later." Destiny grudgingly allows Tina to lift her up onto her hip, but once she's up, she instantly settles her head against Tina's shoulder. She's already dozing off by the time we make it out of the park.

At home, Tina lays Destiny on the bed, where she curls herself into a ball on the pillows without even waking. Tina lies down with her legs hanging over the side, and I pull myself up next to her. Copying her position, I sigh as I relax into the mattress. Between the jam session and the extra effort of pushing myself around on grass all afternoon, topped off by our ridiculously early morning, I'm exhausted.

Tina slips her hand into mine, brushing her thumb over my knuckles lazily. "Long day," she remarks quietly.

I grin, sliding my free arm beneath my head. "Yeah, and it's only half over. Maybe Dee's got the right idea." Tina laughs and squeezes my hand, and when I glance over a few minutes later, her eyes are closed.

At the age of twenty-three, I'm finally starting to understand the magical benefits of  _naptime_.

* * *

After it starts getting dark outside, our family moves out into the backyard for fireworks. While most everyone gathers around the large cement patio, I push myself out into the grass and make myself comfortable on a blanket beneath a tree. I've been banned from fireworks for years now after accidentally setting my pant leg on fire once. I don't mind, I'd rather watch them from a distance anyway.

Leaving Destiny under the supervision of her grandparents, Tina joins me out in the yard. While I'm arranging myself on the blanket, she stands next to me, examining the tree I have my back against, and she suddenly laughs. "It's still there," she says, and I look up to see what she's talking about, even though I already know. Carved into the wood are the initials  _AA + TC_  inside a lopsided, angular heart. She put it there on her sixteenth birthday, using a very expensive looking pocketknife she'd stolen from her dad's study. It's an inch or two higher than it used to be, or maybe I just think it is because I haven't looked at it for so long, but it's every bit as clear as the day she scratched it out.

She traces her fingers over the letters one more time, smiling. Then she nudges one of my outstretched legs aside and settles herself between them, leaning back into my chest. For a minute, we just watch in silence as Dad teaches Destiny how to draw in the air with a sparkler wand. The look of awe on her face is priceless.

"Makes you miss the days when simple things like fireworks seemed like magic, doesn't it?" Tina asks idly, and I nod in agreement. We slip into quiet again, and when I move my arm to drape it over her waist, she just rests her arm on mine and threads our fingers together. Her profile is all I can see from this angle, illuminated only by the flickering lights from the fireworks. I follow her gaze to where Destiny is drawing circles in front of herself, giggling in excitement, and everything about the moment feels perfect.

"Tina," I start quietly and she makes a little humming noise to show she's listening. "I've been thinking–"

"Uh oh."

I smile but ignore the dig. "I've been thinking about this a lot and – I want you to stay with me." My heart drops when she tenses, sitting up slowly and sliding out of my grasp. She turns around to sit on her heels facing me, but it's too dark to see her expression. Panicking, I hurry on before she can get the wrong impression. "I know it'll be your choice in the end, and I don't want it to feel like I'm pressuring you, but at least hear me out first?"

She doesn't say anything, but she nods so I take my chance. "I know that this is me asking a whole lot from you. I know that staying in Chicago with me means leaving behind the place you've lived in for years and your job and your best friend. But I don't want to live another day so far away from you, and I don't want to spend a single day more away from Destiny.

"I've already got my house, so we have that place to live with plenty of room for us. I talked to my boss while we were in Chicago and he's offered me a promotion. The Senior Head of Public Relations is switching to another department and they've offered me his job, which means a nice raise and a lot less travelling. I make enough that if you never want to work another day, you don't have to. But I was also thinking if you want to keep singing there's always Broadway in Chicago. If you want, you can finally chase your dreams of being a performer."

I pause, taking a moment to collect myself and put myself back on track. "I'm not saying let's rush into anything like marriage, and I know this is still a big gamble to be taking. But the fact of the matter is, I love you, Tee. I've been in love with you since I was fifteen years old. We've lost a lot of time over the last few years, and now that we've got our second chance I don't want to lose a minute more."

Even though the backyard and most of the neighbourhood is full of noise, the silence that follows seems deafening to me. She doesn't say anything but I can feel her eyes on me, and I desperately wish I had at least a little light to read something of her expression. A full minute passes by, and my stomach is turning sluggishly.

"Uh, Tee, this is the point where it'd be really nice if you said  _something_ ," I offer, trying to keep calm.

She suddenly inhales and I notice her breath is catching. She's crying. Oh God, I've royally screwed this up. What was I thinking? I fight back a wave of nausea as panic rolls through me.

"I love you."

"Wait, what?" 

Her quiet laugh is what makes me realise I've said that out loud, but at the moment I'm too stunned to be embarrassed. She finds my hands and squeezes them in hers. "I love you, Artie," she repeats.

My chest is suddenly seizing up in a much more pleasant way. I take a minute to process this and then ask, "So that's a yes?" In response, she laughs and leans forward. This time when she kisses me, I'm positive that the fireworks are  _not_  just a coincidence. "Wow," I breathe when we separate, and she laughs again. Twisting sideways, she drapes both of her legs over one of mine and relaxes into my body.

"Momma, Daddy!" Destiny shouts, skipping unsteadily across the lawn toward us. "Did you see me making pi'chers with the sparkles?"

"We sure did," Tina says, letting Destiny climb into her lap. "They were so pretty."

"Nuh-uh, you didn't see," Destiny says in a bit of a sing-song voice. "You was kissin', I sawed it." She breaks down in giggles, and I can't help but follow suit. When she quiets again, Destiny looks between us before settling her eyes on me and, incredibly astute for a four-year-old, asks, "Does that mean you're not gonna go 'way again and we can be a weal family?"

I glance sideways at Tina for support and she nods. "Yeah, princess, we're going to stick together from now on." Destiny's face lights up, and she stretches her arms out to be able to hug both Tina and me around the necks. As I hug them back, one arm around Tina's back and the other around my little blue-eyed angel, I realise that sometimes those cheesy clichés can really hit it on the head.

Because even the darkest and most twisted faerie tales eventually reach that point where it says 'and they all lived happily ever after.' And I'm pretty sure that this moment right here, this is it.


	36. Epilogue: A New Beginning

I roll into the house and close the door behind me, cutting off the early autumn chill that's swept over Chicago. Shrugging out of my jacket, I toss it over the arm of the nearest piece of furniture and look around. The living room and kitchen are empty, and the only sounds in the house are faint strains of music. I follow them down the hall to my bedroom.

Tina is standing at the foot of the bed, her back to me as she folds one of her skirts into the suitcase sitting on the mattress. She's humming along with the radio, but when I stop in the doorway, she glances over her shoulder and smiles. "I thought I heard you come home," she says, turning back to the suitcase.

"You feeling better?" I ask, rolling around to the side of the bed. This morning when I'd left for work she had been a little under the weather, but she seems to be fine now. She just nods, humming along with the Beatles again. "Dee in taking a nap?"

"Yeah, she was pretty tired after dance," Tina says with an affectionate smile. Shortly after we were settled into my house in Chicago, we enrolled Destiny in dance classes at Brittany's studio. It was almost all she'd talked about for most of the last month and a half. She got her first pair of ballet slippers last week for her fifth birthday present and has hardly taken them off. At this rate, I'm betting she'll need a new pair before Christmas. "She's been down for about a half hour, so I expect she'll be awake soon."

I nod and then lift myself up on my elbows to peer into the suitcase, not at all surprised to see that she's gone ahead and packed my clothes as well. "Nearly done already?" I ask with a short laugh.

"We  _are_  leaving tomorrow," she reminds me. "I figured now would probably be a good time to start. Would you go get my blue dress from the closet for me? I forgot to grab it." I nod and push myself over, retrieving the designated article of clothing and bringing it back. She has a good point about the packing. We're heading up to Seattle for the weekend for Grace and Jake's wedding, and even though we've known about it for a while now, we've put off packing until the day before.

As I watch Tina folding a pair of socks with an excessive amount of concentration, I get the feeling that something's off. Brow furrowing, I ask, "Tee, you okay?" She glances at me curiously, so I elaborate. "You seem like you've got something on your mind. What's going on?"

She nods, turning her gaze back to her hands. "The director called today," she says, and I look up in interest. Last week she went to her first audition for a new play opening up at the Cadillac Palace Theatre, and we've been waiting all week for a response. I hold my breath expectantly as she sighs and comes around to sit on the mattress facing me. "I got the part."

"Oh my God." It's out of my mouth before I've even fully processed, and once it sinks in, I laugh. Reaching forward, I grab her hands and pull her down to me, kissing her. "Tee, this is amazing." She smiles, but somehow it doesn't exactly match her eyes. "Why does it feel like I'm the only one excited about this?" I ask in confusion.

Tina takes a deep breath. "I turned it down."

"What? Why? I thought this is what you wanted to do." My brain kicks into overdrive, sending me into a panic that even I know is completely irrational. Has she changed her mind about staying in Chicago? What went wrong? I thought everything was going great, all things considered.

"It is," she says quickly, sensing my alarm and placing a comforting hand on my arm. It'd be a lie if I didn't say I breathed a little sigh of relief. "But…" She trails off, chewing at the inside of her cheek anxiously. I squeeze her hand, waiting with bated breath for the inevitable catch. She finally meets my eyes, and there's so much going on there I can't pinpoint anything for sure. "Do you remember that night in your hotel room? When Destiny was in the hospital? The movie marathon and the candy war and all that?" I nod, not quite sure where this is going. She tightens her grip on my hand and pulls in a slow breath. "Artie, I'm pregnant… Again."

My breath lodges somewhere in my throat, making me instantaneously light-headed. "You're – we're –  _really_?" She smiles hesitantly and nods, and what else can I do but laugh. "You're pregnant," I say in awe, glancing quickly from her face to her stomach and back. "We're going to have a baby.  _Another_  baby," I amend immediately. I laugh again, the reality of the situation really starting to hit me. "Tee, this is more than amazing. This is – it's fantastic. Phenomenal. We're having a baby!"

"We're having a baby," she echoes and when she smiles this time, it's completely genuine. She initiates the kiss and I respond eagerly, entirely caught up in this perfect moment. When we pull apart, she rests her forehead against mine and I brush my thumb over her cheek. I'm not alarmed to feel the tears on her skin because I know they're the good tears, the ones that just make her smile even more beautiful.

I back up and hastily murmur, "Wait here a second." Pivoting, I push myself into the closet again, easily finding the dusty box in the far corner and lifting it onto my lap.

"Are those –?"

"Yeah," I answer, setting aside the lid and staring down at the black leather shoes. The metal plates on the soles click together loudly as I plunge my hand into the left tap shoe, closing my fingers around the smaller box shoved into the toe. When I pull it out, I lay the shoebox on the floor and roll my chair back to where Tina is still sitting on the bed.

"Artie, what's that?" she asks, eyeing the box in my palm.

"Your eighteenth birthday present," I say, fingering the worn velvet. "It's been hidden away in that shoebox since I got it. I could never bring myself to get rid of it, and now I know why."

Taking a deep breath, I set the brake on my chair and meet her gaze. "I'd get down on one knee if I could," I say, and she copies my smile at the memory even as her eyes tear up and she lifts her hands to cover her mouth. "I love you, Tee, and if I've learned anything by this point, it's that I'm going to keep feeling this way about you for the rest of my life. It's five years late but," I open the box, and she gasps at the simple silver band nestled inside, "Marry me?"

She's crying, her hands still over her mouth, but she lifts her eyes to mine and nods enthusiastically, all of her uncertainty and hesitation having faded sometime in the last two months. My hands are shaking as I take her left hand and slide the band onto her third finger. For a long time, both of us just stare at the way the ring looks against her skin, and then she takes my face in her hands and kisses me again.

"I love you," she whispers against my mouth, smiling. "And we're going to get married, and have this baby, and be like a real, normal family."

"Yeah," I agree distractedly, my mind still trying to grasp all of this. It's been a broken and out-of-order journey, but somehow my life with Tina has come full circle to where I always hoped we'd be some day. My best friend is going to become my wife, we have our beautiful daughter, and now we have another little baby on the way. Her parents took so much from us in the past, but in the end, we still won and we've found a way to get it all back.

"Are you scared about being pregnant?" I ask quietly because I have to know. After everything she went through the last time, I can imagine there must be some anxiousness.

"No," she says, and says it so confidently that it has to be true. She takes one of my hands and lays my palm against her stomach. "You're here with me this time. With everything we've already survived, we can handle anything."

Ignoring the prickling at the corners of my eyes, I stare at my hand resting on the flat plane of her stomach. Somewhere underneath there is our little baby, and she's right; this time I'm going to be there for everything. She places her hand over the top of mine and I smile. "I'm glad you're not scared, because I am," I admit with a laugh. She smiles, squeezing my hand affectionately until I can feel the cool metal of her engagement ring on the back of my hand.

"I can't believe we're really going to have another baby," I say in wonder. Smirking a little, I add, "You'd think we'd have learned our lesson the first time. If we don't figure out how that protection thing works soon, we're going to wind up with a whole mess of kids. I'm talking like so big that some tv network will give us our own reality show. Like, a Mormon-sized Abrams horde."

Tina laughs, the bright, real laugh that scrunches her nose up. "And I'm sure you'd have a problem with that," she says sarcastically.

I consider that thought for a moment, biting my bottom lip, and then laugh and shake my head. "Probably not," I agree. "Although I don't know, if they all wind up as active as Dee, the chaos might drive us both to an early grave. I have a hard enough time keeping up with her, let alone ten or twenty more."

"Yeah, let's just survive this one first, and then we'll see where you stand on that giant horde," she says with a smile. When I glance up at her face again, she's staring down at her left hand with a slightly dazed smile. "I can't believe we're really going to get married," she says, glancing at me through her lashes before turning her eyes to the ring again. "You know, whenever I thought about what this would be like to get engaged, and how it would happen, I never imagined it like this."

"Me neither," I say, turning my hand over to wrap my fingers through hers, tracing my thumb across the silver band. "But then the only time I ever seriously thought about it, I was eighteen-years-old, so I suppose times have changed a bit since then."

"You didn't imagine you'd be the father of two when it happened?" she asks with a smile.

"Again, I was eighteen. So no, really wasn't expecting that," I say, laughing. "You know what, though? I can't say for sure because I'll never really know, but I think I like it better this way. I was less nervous today than I was in all that time our senior year after I decided I was going to propose."

"When was that?" she asks curiously.

I feel a half-smirk creep onto my face and confess, "The summer before our senior year. I made my first payment on the ring the day before you asked me if I'd ever thought about us getting married after high school."

She laughs. "Oh yeah, I remember that day," she says. "That explains why you had such a deer-in-the-headlights look."

"What? I thought I played it pretty cool." She gives me a sceptical look and I shrug it off. "Either way, I stick to what I said. After we went through all of this stuff and still somehow managed to wind up back together, I think it's pretty obvious this is some act of destiny." I pause, surprised at the words, and then laugh. "And I totally just got the irony in what I said."

"Witty," she says, rolling her eyes. I pout dejectedly and she laughs, leaning down to kiss me. When she pulls back, she examines my face for a minute and says, "I love you."

"I know," I answer, smiling.

Her eyes widen and she laughs. "Did you seriously just Han Solo me?" she asks in amusement.

"Maybe I did," I say. "And guess what? You recognised the line. You're the bigger nerd."

"You  _used_  the line," she argues.

"Which you recognised, out of context." I glance down over her and then smirk. "Oh and Tee, you're wearing a cardigan."

She blinks in surprise and glances down. "It's cold in here," she rebuts weakly. "Besides, it's  _your_  jumper."

"But you're the one wearing it," I say firmly. "Face it, this time I win." I don't duck fast enough to avoid the pillow she throws at me. "What was that for?" I ask indignantly.

"Your grand prize," she says with a grin. I shake my head as I toss the pillow back to her, and she sets it on the bed again.

"Sore loser," I grumble, making her laugh.

"Oh you know you love it," she says, standing up and wrapping my worn blue jumper tighter around her body.

"Always, Tee."

She smiles and walks around the bed to the suitcase again. "C'mon, help me finish packing," she says, setting about rearranging a stack of shirts.

"Do we have to?" I ask, arching an eyebrow suggestively. "I mean, we just got engaged  _and_  found out we're having another baby. Sounds like cause for celebration to me."

"Yeah, and we have a five-year-old who will be waking up any time now, and I'd really rather not scar her for life," Tina responds, laughing, and I sigh in defeat. She bends down and kisses me again, and this time when she finally straightens up, we're both a little bit breathless. Regarding me through her lashes, she says, "Maybe later." I smile triumphantly and she laughs. "Now I didn't know which tie you wanted to wear with your suit for the wedding, so go pick one and put it in the bag before you forget again, okay?"

"Alright, alright," I say, pretending to be exasperated as I roll back to the closet. I can't help but smile though as I stow a dusty old shoebox back into the corner and start browsing through a row of ties.

"Not the green one, Artie," Tina calls from the bedroom, and I laugh, rolling my eyes.

If someone had asked me nine weeks ago, I would have told them that I couldn't have possibly wanted more than a second chance with my girlfriend and having my little girl become a part of my life. Now my second chance has changed into a lifetime commitment to the girl of my dreams, and in about six months, my little girl is going to be getting a baby brother or sister.

Yeah, it's been a crazy ride and it's far from over, but I've ended up with everything I ever wanted and more, and that more than makes up for it.


End file.
